Sean Price – 3 Lyrical Ps (feat. Prodigy & Styles P)


All I want in this world, my pretty [lil g’s]
Andre Iguodala
I’m not just a rapper I’m a painter by trade
Four pound in her Chanel clutch, yeah that’s sweet
Doors slide, [?] hit your face like it’s rawhide
On the daily, serve bullets across your temple get grazed it
And party like it’s 2020 on the beach
Embarrassing the family, Keyshia Cole mother
Blood pouring out that vein, that’s not wavy
Then take a couple double shots with the team
Don’t you ask me ’bout no rappers they can all die
Matrix, facelift with the can opener
Black Mafia, Infamous, on that Mobb shit
[Verse 1: Sean Price]
Y’all niggas is bantamweights
(La musica de Harry Fraud)
I smack shit out of niggas dressing like Kia Shine
‘Cause niggas will pop on you like SEAL Team Six
It go, waste removal, we dispose brothers
Gatling on the stand whenever the van open up

I’m dope like chronic, I’m nasty like vomit
[Intro: Sean Price]
Every word from P divine
Bullets hit your teeth like it’s fluoride
Word to me and mine
[Verse 2: Prodigy]
Burnt with your head cut off, you don’t dream
Life is what you make it so I made it iconic
Your family come for revenge, blow ’em to smithereens
You got the Bryant Gumbel face
All I do in this world is get the money mainly
I shoot a fair one with a midget
You’re gelatin, my skeleton is like Wolverine’s
Yeah
For the life, I’ll put your brain next to your feet
The rap great, the beat crazy
Have bitch niggas thinking that me and my camp clowns
I’m strangling brothers, I’m harming them daily

Yeah, P!
I hear you talking but it don’t mean shit
Baby, you are now rocking with the best, we good regardless
Cheers to the killers in limousines
Shut the fuck up
I’m beyond it I spit up a verse, on your level?
Break all your toy soldiers and make it complete
I could tell by your beard you don’t love Allah
[Verse 3: Styles P]
Fucking with the white with the Tony Montana face
Those from Thailand with a ship through the Philippines
Duke, I shoot an airgun at a pigeon
Listen, Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey
Man down, stand down, blam rounds
So what you want the hawk or the .45?
I smack shit out of you, make your padre give me dollars
I’ma bring you through hell, I’ll be the tour guide
I fuck her so good, yeah my dick is bionic
Abstract art, just throw a grenade to your brains

I’m like Morpheus on opiates
Soak the kerosene and thrown in the guillotine