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Three Six Mafia - Body Parts 3 Lyrics



Three Six Mafia - Body Parts 3 Lyrics
Official




Crunchy Blac, Boogie Mane, Frayser Boy, Lil' Wyte, Chrome
Granddaddy Souf, Juicy J, Project Pat, DJ Paul the king of Memphis
Cock 'em up

Hypnotized minds, HCP, hypnotized camp posse
We finna do this for all you thievin' ass
Wanna be us ass niggaz out there
Stealin' motherf*cker, take ya fake asses on nigga keep it real nigga
Make this money like we makin' it nigga, throw it down

Ain't never been a motherf*ckin' bitch
Hypnotized here just to get that grip
Y'all niggaz talk 'cause ya talk like a bitch
Y'all niggaz walk 'cause ya walk like a bitch

Now ain't that some shit ya hatin' on this click
You gon' make a nigga get up with cha kid
Split yo wig oh yes, I did
I told you, you don't want it with a hard hitta kid

I done warned the glock spot to spot hit the locks
Hit a nigga for his stash spot
Took the rock nigga was got that was the plot
Dodge the cops they labeled it another closing shop

Open it up for closin' it up I don't give a f*ck
On a daily basis I be postin' it up
Smokin' it up choppin' it to match it wit dub
Give us a club six mane tearin' it up

These niggaz misleaded I'mma throw the first blow
Leave a nigga shirt soaked playin' getcha merked hoe
Chop it yeah, I hope folk money what I work fo'
Paul and Juicy sent me gotta put you in the dirt bro

Comin' with the pistols is easy we can get you guys
Frayser boy bizzle or beezy it's the hypnotize
HCP them my folks weed got my eyes low
If you know what I know run that shit to my doe

We back motherf*cker we smack motherf*ckers
If you step in our way killaz attack motherf*cker
But ya'll know ya'll done heard all that befo'
Y'all done seen the fo-fos and folks kick in ya doe

You done seen the gauge pump bout to see a Chevy trunk
Lights out next to the Mississippi river plumped
Duck tape hog tied wrong place wrong time
Hypnotized minds trick knocked ya up off ya grind

All my muhf*ckers you niggaz should already know
I'm the truth and out the booth never been a hoe
Get yo ass flipped sideways cut ya through the doe
You ain't know I'm a young rich gangsta nigga

Never been one of them old type wanksta niggaz
I'm a smart muhf*cka ask my mama who made me
A lotta niggaz mad 'cause they know they can't fade me
I'm Chrome Carleone Paul and Juicy who pay me

Well it's ya boy grandaddy call me Mr. Man
F*ckin' ya aunties ya nieces and ya mammies
See I could give a f*ck about ya tossin' all ya tough talkin'
You don't like me nigga hit me in my mouth

Man don't talk about it be about it get cha point across then
Candy ass nigga boy you softer than cotton
Fight me or squash it 'cause I ain't 'bout the spit boxin'
Hootin and hollerin' like a cheerleader squadron

You can't be like me slangin' D 'cause I'm hurtin' ya
No competition with the juice 'cause it's curtains
It ain't nothin' shakin' but some pimps in this bizitch
That's why you muggin' and yo face lookin' pizzissed

Stay flippin' cars ballin' out like to shizine
You stay askin' questions how the hell them niggaz do that
We smoke the best of dro while she down with some jack-jack
My eyes like the red carpet still on the blue side

They locked me up just like 2Pac and I went platinium
Laid it down for a calendar I'm right back at 'em
Took my game then weighed it up on a triple beam
Niggaz rob, kill, murder steal for that ghetty green

U.S. marshal at my folks house want to kill me dead
Wanna see me in a pine box bullet in my head
I'm was like, "I ain't did shit why you hatin' this?"
Ghetto thugs know my rap songs they relate to this

I been doin' this too long to still be strugglin' livin' like this
F*ckin' off with major labels slayed me like a bitch
And these got cheese and ride on rolls it mean hoes
But still on the road doin' free shows

Tryna get a few spins in a few spots
I growed up back in the day I wouldn't use my glock
I hear a lotta corny shit on the radio
That's because they record company wouldn't spend dough

Yeah, my label got a hook up with MTV
But they just keep forgettin' to tell 'em 'bout me
They try to play like its love and it's family
But all my marketin' dollars goin' to, shh

Tear da club up was the first crunk fight song
I made that in 92 a lil' not long
That it took 10 million sold and we still ain't on
That's why three 6 is the most known unknowns
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




Crunchy Blac, Boogie Mane, Frayser Boy, Lil' Wyte, Chrome
Granddaddy Souf, Juicy J, Project Pat, DJ Paul the king of Memphis
Cock 'em up

Hypnotized minds, HCP, hypnotized camp posse
We finna do this for all you thievin' ass
Wanna be us ass niggaz out there
Stealin' motherf*cker, take ya fake asses on nigga keep it real nigga
Make this money like we makin' it nigga, throw it down

Ain't never been a motherf*ckin' bitch
Hypnotized here just to get that grip
Y'all niggaz talk 'cause ya talk like a bitch
Y'all niggaz walk 'cause ya walk like a bitch

Now ain't that some shit ya hatin' on this click
You gon' make a nigga get up with cha kid
Split yo wig oh yes, I did
I told you, you don't want it with a hard hitta kid

I done warned the glock spot to spot hit the locks
Hit a nigga for his stash spot
Took the rock nigga was got that was the plot
Dodge the cops they labeled it another closing shop

Open it up for closin' it up I don't give a f*ck
On a daily basis I be postin' it up
Smokin' it up choppin' it to match it wit dub
Give us a club six mane tearin' it up

These niggaz misleaded I'mma throw the first blow
Leave a nigga shirt soaked playin' getcha merked hoe
Chop it yeah, I hope folk money what I work fo'
Paul and Juicy sent me gotta put you in the dirt bro

Comin' with the pistols is easy we can get you guys
Frayser boy bizzle or beezy it's the hypnotize
HCP them my folks weed got my eyes low
If you know what I know run that shit to my doe

We back motherf*cker we smack motherf*ckers
If you step in our way killaz attack motherf*cker
But ya'll know ya'll done heard all that befo'
Y'all done seen the fo-fos and folks kick in ya doe

You done seen the gauge pump bout to see a Chevy trunk
Lights out next to the Mississippi river plumped
Duck tape hog tied wrong place wrong time
Hypnotized minds trick knocked ya up off ya grind

All my muhf*ckers you niggaz should already know
I'm the truth and out the booth never been a hoe
Get yo ass flipped sideways cut ya through the doe
You ain't know I'm a young rich gangsta nigga

Never been one of them old type wanksta niggaz
I'm a smart muhf*cka ask my mama who made me
A lotta niggaz mad 'cause they know they can't fade me
I'm Chrome Carleone Paul and Juicy who pay me

Well it's ya boy grandaddy call me Mr. Man
F*ckin' ya aunties ya nieces and ya mammies
See I could give a f*ck about ya tossin' all ya tough talkin'
You don't like me nigga hit me in my mouth

Man don't talk about it be about it get cha point across then
Candy ass nigga boy you softer than cotton
Fight me or squash it 'cause I ain't 'bout the spit boxin'
Hootin and hollerin' like a cheerleader squadron

You can't be like me slangin' D 'cause I'm hurtin' ya
No competition with the juice 'cause it's curtains
It ain't nothin' shakin' but some pimps in this bizitch
That's why you muggin' and yo face lookin' pizzissed

Stay flippin' cars ballin' out like to shizine
You stay askin' questions how the hell them niggaz do that
We smoke the best of dro while she down with some jack-jack
My eyes like the red carpet still on the blue side

They locked me up just like 2Pac and I went platinium
Laid it down for a calendar I'm right back at 'em
Took my game then weighed it up on a triple beam
Niggaz rob, kill, murder steal for that ghetty green

U.S. marshal at my folks house want to kill me dead
Wanna see me in a pine box bullet in my head
I'm was like, "I ain't did shit why you hatin' this?"
Ghetto thugs know my rap songs they relate to this

I been doin' this too long to still be strugglin' livin' like this
F*ckin' off with major labels slayed me like a bitch
And these got cheese and ride on rolls it mean hoes
But still on the road doin' free shows

Tryna get a few spins in a few spots
I growed up back in the day I wouldn't use my glock
I hear a lotta corny shit on the radio
That's because they record company wouldn't spend dough

Yeah, my label got a hook up with MTV
But they just keep forgettin' to tell 'em 'bout me
They try to play like its love and it's family
But all my marketin' dollars goin' to, shh

Tear da club up was the first crunk fight song
I made that in 92 a lil' not long
That it took 10 million sold and we still ain't on
That's why three 6 is the most known unknowns
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Patrick Houston, Jordan Houston, Patrick Lanshaw, Darnell Carlton, Cedric Coleman, D. Pannell, Booker Hunt, Anson D Watts, Paul Beauregard
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Royalty Network





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