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square biz - 3200 tre lyrics

[verse 1: rmc mike]
i’m on the phone with the plug, talking square biz
make enough money every day to feed twelve kids
i usually don’t ride with the dope, but sh*t this sale big
baby got a big p*ssy on her, i just fell in
pick him off with a 50 cal, this b*tch a sniper
brodie in the cell k!lling sh*t, ’cause he a lifer
hit the road with a half a slab rapped in diapers
every time i’m popping out, lit like a lighter

[verse 2: 3200 tre]
i used to feel left out, ’cause i wasn’t turnt enough
money ain’t gon’ change your life, until you earn enough
the first time i triеd to cook, a n*gga burnt it up
you ain’t never took a loss, you can’t learn from nothing
monеy is not everything, you can’t change me
tell me who the f*ck it is, if it ain’t me
i don’t hear the sh*t you saying, so i can’t see
i live my life in 4k, you still in hd

[verse 3: allstar jr]
police in my neighborhood, hate i fleed twice
get off the field, crash a n*gga like rashee rice
she wanna be my b*tch, i’ma give her three nights
these boes free, n*gga, i don’t know no weed price
looking at his phone, n*gga, finna lie
fan on a n*gga mean a n*gga, finna die
chocolate face presi looking like some chilly fries
i ain’t even up this 50, b*tch, i’m being civilized
[verse 4: rmc mike]
b*tch p*ssy blew out, i done hit her 50 times
and she know that i’m the truth, but i lied 50 times
bring it to your motherf*cking door, jimmy johns
layed back, but i can get this sh*t popping anytime
and man never get a trace, this a ghost glock
hit a b*tch, then cut her off, leave the ho blocked
walk in, cameras everywhere, this a dope spot
rumor is doggy fell off, sh*t, i hope not

[verse 5: 3200 tre]
i hope you don’t think i will, ’cause i won’t stop
i hate when n*ggas ask for prices and they don’t cop
you can’t slide in my hood, i got the road blocked
i gotta touch it, you can’t tell me that the stove hot
i don’t rap like no n*gga, i got my own style
i used to have to pick sh*t up , it’s gettin’ drove now
my face card might be good for some boes now
i might be him, but i’d rather chill and keep a low profile

[verse 6: allstar jr]
he got a real diamond link, but the piece fake
n*ggas spraying all the boes, hate the weed game
i ball hard, dope stretching like it’s pregame
rivals sleep, selling lb’s in my pj’s
i put a million blue pills on the freeway
play the opps, i put ten on the dj
n*ggas going bankrupt, that don’t seem safe
she wanna f*ck me, get up out that freak face
bag life

- 3200 tre lyrics

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