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Correct Not Stick You, Pt. 2 Lyrics
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Artists: T
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Tragedy
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Correct Not Stick You, Pt. 2
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Lyrics:
Who the f*** is that Ayo, pass my phone Those b****es calling you now It ain't no b**** No b****es even got my number See I was wakin' up Out of my sleep, holdin' my heat Got a call from Khadafi sayin' call me back Papi I rushed to the bathroom to bust me a leak Charged my phone for a second 'cause I knew it was deep I know Trag, and Trag ain't afraid of no beef But he f*** with bottom feeders and them n****s is creeps (true) Called him back, he ain't answer, I got a little worried Text messaged him quick, said call me back, hurry I rolled a blunt and I tried to relax This n**** put me on, gotta show him love, that's facts Phone rang, and I picked up, like what up slime Peace god, I'm in Miami, don't take it in vain On Biscayne with three Italian b****es goin' insane I said god, no disrespect, while I'm smokin' this joint But it's late night, n**** gotta get to the point Won't make a long story longer, so I'll cut to the chase F***in' with the boss wife, the b**** showed me the safe It ain't a shock, I got some Haitian n****s out in Opa Locka And some goons up in Overtown, they'll do it proper But the thing is, they don't wanna what they work for They just wanna kill s*** N****s never out of line, they just wanna kill s*** Real talk, real spit gorilla s*** in my vibe I g'ed her for the combination and I saw bout nine I ain't talkin' ???, this is actual facts Matter of fact, I'ma boomerang 'Pone on this Jack Aura Ayo slime, what up man, I'm boomeranging you, man 'Cause I got off the phone with the Deuce and all that (Aight, what he saying) You know slime on this good guy s*** I got three b****es, I got three bangin' Italian b****es, n**** Look, we can bring this s*** back, forward And all that the aura's gracious One b**** is from Star Island, my n**** The other b****, she from motherf***in' Coconut Grove. And the b**** I'm f***in' wit', feel me, she from motherf***in' Golden Beach, son This s*** is poppin', my n**** (whassup) Word is born, I need you Aight Got some n****s in the Grove Gun stay hot as the stove My Little Haiti n****s out of control All they need is a whereabout to air it out Escape to the stash house in West Palm Chill Mahdi, you know we do this best calm Word to my left arm You my right hand We in it for life, fam Just give me the address My n****s right there in a white van I spoke to Cadeuce He was like, damn, slime caught up in a light jam I be there in a minute My mind zonin', thinkin' 'bout all of them stacks Made a call to my ??? had to give 'em my facts Rich boss and my n**** f***in' his wife He know where the safe at But yo, we gotta thug 'em tonight Here's the game plan, she gonna let him know when his plane land And text slime the code to the gate and the door You could hide in the closet 'cause the safe in the floor Fast forward 'bout nine PM He pulled up in a lime BM Puffin' a Cuban cigar Made his way to the boro and the door's ajar My n**** hopped out, threw the heat to his face Said Me nah wan' hurt you, boy Where the key to the safe He gave it up quick Lookin' at these n****s with dreads Knowin' one false move they probably fill him with lead Took the bread, hopped back in the whip In about forty five minutes met the whole team back on the strip Split the loot up - eighty five racks apiece We got it in, my n****s Now let's feast
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