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THREE 6 MAFIA lyrics : "Tear Da Club Up (Da Real)"

[Chorus x12]
Tear the club up, ^!$$% tear the club up


This for all the playas who be talkin' that %#@!
The 3-6 show no love
We quick to murder a trick

You could be a friend or foe
Kinda down or not
I'm rollin' wit that fool Crunchy and we got them glocks

Backed up, bout' a 4-5 and a 38
You wanna take this click
Don't won't fool it'll be a mistake

Chris bring the mosperd with the slugs n' %#@!
We got some graves for your body
Already dug n' %#@!

Ingamous grab the cali with a hundred rounds
Koopsta load the tank
And blow the !@$(s down

Juice with the 2 nines like the ^!$$% Nashay
On the move shoot em' up
So so they feel the pain

I thought you knew
That I'm from Memphis where this %#@! is so thick
When at the club we gets some bud

We try to tear up some %#@!
Gangsta Boo the gangsta (*##$ with the 3-57
The main goal in life

Is a opposite heaven
Triple 6 (*##$


[Chorus x8]

Deadly

We should begin
And come close to the killer dimensions
^!$$%s gettin' mentions

From the Triple 6 acting christians
May I mention
Thugstas I said [??] are merceful

I'm a step on the enemy
^!$$%s see death is unreversable
Hard decision

Afraid to see death is not fiction
On you (*##$es
$#&@ around and find you want to be kiss as with the mortition

Executional style buck in your head
While your beggin' on your knees, uh
Better you bustas flip to the morge

And the chillin' in the cold freezers
(??) His deadly punishment
Then me and my Triple 6

We go and blow a house up
Do that trick
I can give a $#&@

Unless (*##$ I'm glad that you dead and gone
Three 6 Mafia signed out
So make us $#&@in' tombstones

Memphis is $#&@in' city
Where Lord Infamous loves to ball
And just like I said before

(*##$ some with me to hell
Everybody in this house
You ^!$$%s know wussup

Let me see can you mother$#&@in' tear this club up

[Chorus x8]


Tear the club up
^!$$% tear the club up

All these playa hatas in the club
Got us $#&@ed up
I'm that ^!$$% with them two nines

Ready to blast
When I pull a mag
You mother$#&@ers better haul $$#

Paul throwin' chest in the air
Koopsta locin' up
Fly take the cash from your $$#
Mr. stick em' up
$#&@ the def security

$#&@ a mother$#&@in' cop
If they take me out the club
I buck em' in the parking lot
Grab the club
On the quick the wrist (*##$

In the trunk
Take him out and take his money
Then I spit on the punk
Now I'm crunk
Break em' bottles up against the $#&@in' wall

Shoe tones
Leather fools to them jealous [??]
$#&@ these ^!$$%s
Test that pimp
And we gon' bury all you hoes

Lacin' (*##$es right in half
Started em' straight
Through the floor
^!$$%s talkin' plenty %#@!
But they ain' buck enough
We gon' get some dinamite

And blow this mother$#&@er up

[Chorus x8]
Yeah

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