You wanna do dat You wanna do dat You wanna do dat
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' shit Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up
Now eve'body wanna fuckin' they own label Wouldn't on the shit to bring to the table in they own fantasy somethin' like a fable Handicap situations all
I 'em down, like a computer 'Cause ain't nobody wit the super producer Coreleone, town representatives Fuck Don P Man of y'all too sensitive
But ya right, me But ain't 'nam day you gon' me 'bout, Don P, why you buckin'? Man you need to chill out get to the
I got it and I'ma Trill nigga I handle all my problems I'm all respectin' man, before anybody checkin'
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up
What you starin' at? This ain't no free You gon' make me cock back, hit ya ass in the You don't wanna do dat, dem thangs clit-clak Goes in ya through the front, out through the back
Come and make my night, love to talk but to fight Was you a bitch? I was a bitch, it don't go away ova Man up man up I told you before motherfucker stand up
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' shit Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that
Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up
Now if you niggaz playin', you gon' make a nigga tear a hole through yo' chest, is yo' flesh, I can see yo' soul You don't do dat, I'ma hit you wit a bat all dat shit nigga and I'ma hit you wit da gack
Seventeen out da barrel on my .45 Four five equals nine goin' through yo spine Sit yo ass down hoe, make a you gotta go you off da map and beat yo ass at yo own show
Ain't playin' no wit you lames when it comes to gangsta shit Throwin' up my middle finger, on my own dick thank they slick take yo pick, which one you want? Bullets flyin' through yo house or goin' through yo door
Make yo ass wit different strokes of my hand movements Say dat your a G, in streets, man you gotta prove in Next, time I see you talkin' talkin' I'ma rearrange yo and put yo ass in a ditch, bitch
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' shit Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' shit
Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up Man up motherfucker, man up
You don't do dat You wanna do dat You don't do dat ...