Lyrics Two Three - Master P feat. Rick Ross
I
ball
like
I'm
two-three
Bitch
I
hustle
like
I'm
two-three
I'm
on
the
block
like
two-three
Bitch
I'm
back,
y'all
niggas
remember
me?
I
ball
like
I'm
two-three
Nigga
hustle
like
two-three
I'm
on
the
block
like
two-three
Now
I'm
back
bitch,
y'all
remember
me?
Michael
Jordan
of
the
street
shit
So
hard,
showed
you
niggas
how
to
eat,
bitch
Twenty-three
on
my
muthafuckin'
pinky
finger
Twenty-three
million
on
the
mansion,
what
you
thinkin'?
Pussy
nigga,
you
gon'
stop
me?
Fake
nigga
ain't
make
me
Twenty-three
years
old
when
I
got
rich
Twenty-three
thousand,
spend
it
on
an
outfit
Versace
know
me
by
my
muthafuckin'
first
name
Twenty-three
grand,
[?]
on
my
fuckin'
chain
Twenty-three
on
muthafuckin'
Forbes,
nigga
Twenty-three
exotic
cars
in
the
garage,
nigga
Drop
from
the
line,
my
tongue
hang
out
of
my
mouth
People
rush
in
the
trap,
my
niggas
runnin'
'em
out
My
lil
whoa
wanna
ball,
he
keep
ski-masking
off
cars
Holidays
around
the
corner,
sold
a
fake
key
to
his
dawg
See
me
in
that
Mpisane,
bitch
I
knock
out
your
noodle
Bought
my
whoa
a
Camaro,
all
my
bitches
Sahara
I
got
that
make
you
disappear
money,
abracadabra
Niggas
up
in
the
rafters,
it's
the
Heat
verse
the
Raptors
We
sit
with
the
owners,
yeah
there
go
those
rappers
I
don't
need
no
tickets,
trap
jump
like
it's
Blake
Griffin
I'm
worth
fifty
tickets,
pussy
don't
make
no
difference
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