Lletres:
Mr 3 2 Fuck You

ya, like a missile Nigga fuck you, and what you claim Cause I'll merk your bitch ass, when I got you in the aim [Mr. 3-2:] You in my aim in my scope

backed up like New York traffic You dumb fucks, you're nothing but lunch ducks, Big nuts hairs, swinging like nunchucks Hollygrove I'm claiming it like insurance I've been on the grind, nigga you

's even madder (You god damn right!) Mr. Producer (yo, youknowhatI'msayin) why are you so mad? Yo, Iiiiiii, I'ma I'ma keep it real simple for you Yeah

up, your grams up Talkin bout buckin each other Probly fuckin each other D-Block dawg, we stuck with each other [Chorus x2] [Verse 3 - Jadakiss] A'yo

niggas was doing they thang And a little jury and a Shaun Gas army (All the way) Time fucked up the rhyme [Verse 11: Wish] Hey Mr. K. Ceiling do you

How much do you make, Sir? Man, what the fuck is you talkin bout how much I make?!) (Fuck you!) Ha-ha-ha.. [ VERSE 2 ] I'm in the South Park, peepin

U.S.A Now you got war on your mind, put you on front line and you will die, die, the American way [Verse 3 - Lil Wayne] Question, what the fuck is you

I give it on the arm you can get it from me Cuz if prices was any cheaper y'all be sellin' it for free Paid 2-3 sell it for 2-2-5 McDonald's is makin

you feel the beat We'll make you feel the beat We'll make you feel the beat We'll make you feel the beat (Break it on down) Break 1, break 2, break 3