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Streets on Lock

This song is by Mr. 3-2 and appears on the album The Governor (2001).

(*Talking*)
Uh-huh uh, yeah-yeah

(Mr. 3-2)
Mafia boss, I tolerate no loss
You heard it from Mr. 3-2, Governor of the South
Blood in blood out, connected affiliated
G-O-V and Mike D, underground mob related
Mafia orientated, holding down the Gulf Coast
Calling the shots controlling the block, it's cut throat
Dirty-Dirty is shady, better have some kind of heater
Recognize who your family, and don't bite the hand that feeds ya
I got dimes and senoritas, that's jazzy and bilingual
Let her mix and mingle, watch the bidness she'll bring ya
I know the lingo, got the numbers bring it in off the Interstate
Dealing with nothing but weight, and believe me it's all straight
Making moves like checkmate, can't be easily persuaded
These dummies is outdated, I'm Street Game educated
On the action what's happ'ning, when it's going down
Put the ball in my paw, making boys move they town

Streets on lock, (sitting on top and still mashing)
Got the hood flooded, in control of the action
(We going all out blasting, if it come to that)
'Cause we heated and undefeated, ready to blast back

(Mike D)
I got the streets on lock, nigga flooded with drug shit
You wanna know how I stay rich, 'cause I don't show no love bitch
It's pure G's is in the jaw, no more no less
I'm trying to triple up my figgas, out this block I'm pressed
Mi amigo Raphael Se, out this 9800 Block run
Me and Threezie be somewhere in Amsterdam, in a coffee shop on one
Fuck the rap game, I need right now money
I'm trying to peel off on Dotson, a hundred drilling you dummies
Hoes and house on Fondren, punk like the weight houses on Tre
Fumbling and tumbling haze, down teezy pop weight
Throwing that ensemble, in the paper play 2K
We rumbling in the game, playboy the G way
And respect my mind, cause me Michael Corleone
Boss Hogg Miggity D, a 25 young Don
And when you open that-a, the set vendetta
Seem young foot on it, to put heat up under your sweater

(Mr. 3-2)
Isolated, I deal with a selected few
Stay in my circle of funk, and these niggaz is brand new
Eveything's confidential, keeping the code of silence
We deep in the streets, involved in organized violence
Behind tint we riding, checking on my traps
Turning blocks and corners, with the thang on my lap
Got people's 'cross the map, ready for shit to pop off
Kill or be dead, snitches heads get knocked off
The streets we lock off, top down in the knot
Everything is everything, but Screw-cial in the drop
I'm dropping out dirty money, getting cleaner
With dangerous flows, on toes like a ballerina
Felonies and misdemeanors, I gotta duck and dodge
To really be the boss of all bosses in charge, my entourage
Is mobsters, my heritage and tradition
Passed two generations, and they going to the system

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