Man Up lyrics

by

Sylvan LaCue


[Mr. 3-2]
It's a brand new day, brand new year
Don't be listening to that bullsh*t, n*ggas put in your ear
I do this I do that, ho I get big stacks
Break fools on tracks, and yes I do sell stracks
We mashing that, all of love with no money
I got too much hustle and grind, for you dummies
Skinny and Presidential, hooked me up with Street Game
Put the form in together, then we will get change
These lames, all wanna know my pocket
I'm a gangsta, so reality I drop it
Broads bopping, keep me up like buffet
n*ggas jock it, always got some'ing to say
Hey hey, Fat Domino is a pimp
Mob boss chop it up, eating steak and shrimp
Evidence, dogs never find no traces
Got my poker face on, holding all the aces

[Hook - 2x]
Presidential, is how I'm treated on front row
Street Game, are mo'f*ckers getting they do'
This world, I have you tripping scratching your head
Man up, take your lick and go fed

[Quest]
I'm posted on the cut, of that Mag and Dwayne
Them FED's on my ass, cause the slabs that I slang
Still I hustle to pimp my pockets, with mo' knots than a rope
Still be busting no discussion, infra dot with a scope
It ain't no hope for you b*tch n*ggas, suckers and snitch n*ggas
Acting like b*tches with pussies, running your lips n*gga
You do the crime, you do the time
Don't make a n*gga run up in your house, and use the nine
Bust two into your spine, for telling all the real n*ggas business
Nobody can save you, when I kill no one witness
Swear games with scope brains, spills from a distance
Calicoes burry hoes, burn a n*gga biscuit
You on some Bennie Hill sh*t, talking to laws
You gon make me come through, and put a cross on your jaw
You acting like you hard, when you know you a b*tch
When we don't really bar, cause we know you a snitch
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