Mr. 3-2 - Get Back lyrics

[Hook - 2x] I ain't the one n***a, you better run n***a Or get your gun n***a, 'fore you get done n***a So get back (get back), so get back (get back) I'm a gangsta for real, I don't play like that [Lil' Keke] I'm bout two seconds off that a**, and kicking it fast I'm really not the one b**h, don't make me blast You better run homie, and get your gun homie I'm like T.I. my n***a, cause really they don't know me Shoot for nothing, and shed blood for less Put a hole in your back, through the front of your chest This a war zone, the beef never gone I got n***as taking flight, like a fresh pair of J's on Get it twisted, shots won't miss it Fall in the mix, if it's broke I'll fix it Gangsta for real, don't play like that That's why the seat way back, on a new Maybach This is Southside S.U.C., to the finish Underground kings, we'll never diminish Better run fool, this is old school And I'll never leave home, without my own tool [Hook - 2x] [Mr. 3-2] Quick to touch ya, bum rush ya then cut ya f** off your whole structure, hollow tips bust ya Get your gun n***a, I ain't the one n***a You get done n***a, mob boss won n***a Gangsta for real, no story telling the lies I got some'ing in the chamber, to get rid of these guys Exercise my right to fight, and sweat it off Cause these n***as ain't got no nuts, and way too soft Big Boss, that call the shots in front of the table These marks ain't got no stripes, and really ain't stable I'm able, to hold position lead my troops Send out a hit, and make my trigger man shoot My roots, all trace back to Don G's k**ers for scrilla, bet erase enemies Keke and G-O-V, ain't the ones To be playing with, when our hands on a gun [Hook - 2x] [Cro$$] I step out the house, black on black gat in my nut sack Toe tags, ready to put bodies in trash bags A mad man, n***as out here telling I'm gut swelling boys up, with slugs to the belly And melon three time felon, close bailing Boys yelling my name, now the Glock's to the brain Insane, a hungry motherf**er ain't ashamed To spit out names, like crabs that be snitching in the game And to mention crab man, your daughter's off the chain Yeah I'm shooting slugs at you, but my nuts hang Down to the flo', I step up in the club and don't pay sh** at the do' Yeah n***a, you's a hoe And the rest of them n***as, that was snitching like some b**hes Y'all some cake a** n***as, Cro$$ said that n***a f** it, ain't nobody else gon tell it like it is black And by the way I got my own back, it's right here in my lap [Hook - 2x]