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Correct Certified Dope Lyrics
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Artists: J
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Jedi Mind Tricks
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Correct Certified Dope
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(Intro) Yeah One, two One, two One, two Yeah One, two One, two One, two Aight look Yeah (Verse 1) Anybody think they can't test the bol, prolly Word bond, this is the best, that Sean Connery We pure, come from the chest of Bob Marley Abstain from the ways of the flesh, that's not godly Cube started out on the west with my posse No pork I don't put mess in my body Bullets gonna rip through the vest like hot saki Always gonna give you the best, but not Robby Everything herb and liquor like hot toddy We gon' trick 31 like Rob Zombie You can't control the drum, you rock sloppy I don't play second fiddle, I'm not Scottie If Vinnie gonna spray the block, he rock shotty The .45 caliber kick and stop Roddy's Weisenthal loaded the clip and shot Nazis Now to rhyme, made a decision and shot Ghandi (Chorus: Eamon) They don't make me feel like I gotta bust a shot. Hoo! (One two) Shot (Yeah, yeah) They don't make me feel like I gotta cock this nine. Hoo! (One two) Nine Hah hah (Verse 2) There's no choice wielding here, salute Generals Cops trying to get him on lock to boost Federal They said Vinnie one of the best but too technical When I tried slowin' it down it's too sensical The covenant dark in the soul, the Blue Sentinal Call this little 9 a dime and shoot ten at you The mark that we made in the game, too indelible God made dirt, and dirt produce vegetables My heart pumps, runnin' the lane, you move minimal It's octopus slums so beware a few tentacles The rhyme too fine and the wine too delectable My voice wave stronger than yours, it move decibals Manowar making it loud and move decibal The snare don't knock and the kick is too minimal Sayin' that you're better than dirt is too literal Straight left over the jab induce medical Muerte (Chorus: Eamon) They don't make me feel like I gotta bust a shot. Hoo! (One two) Shot (Yeah, yeah) They don't make me feel like I gotta cock this nine. Hoo! (One two) Nine Hah hah (outro) Yeah Stoupe what up
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