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Correct Play For Keeps Lyrics
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Tadoe
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Correct Play For Keeps
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[Intro: DameDot] What's poppin' DameDot man, you know how we bomin' man Believe man, from the D to Chiraq man, let's get it gang [Verse 1: Tadoe] Got the pounds for the low, finna double up I just poured me a four, watch it bubble up Nigga talkin' tough shit but ain't touchin' us We'll pop out the cut and fuck you up Paid seven hundred dollars for this Gucci collar Five hundred dollars for this fuckin' Gucci belt I got Gucci on my waist, Gucci in your face I bought this belt just to hold up my damn K Bitch you know that I'm jocked up Goin' hard, so hard, can't stop us We on top, can't top us I'll have your whole slab come and top us The whole gang 'cause I'm guaped up Play them games, you get mopped up I am not a fuckin' lame, I'm a shotta We'll hit your block and tear your block up Broad day, watch the fuckin' news Bitch we play for keeps, watch the fuckin' news We gon' slide for weeks, we ain't gon' keep it cool Niggas better get out the way or keep a fuckin' tool My niggas they dogs, they be sellin' food My niggas be robbers, they'll get at you [Verse 2: DameDot] Take 'em up top, watch a nigga ooze Get on my bad side, you gon make the news Got them Balmains on, shits 'bout tight as fuck Say you got them bricks, we gon' tie 'em up Nigga talkin' heavy, we gon' light him up I went to golden sun, told him light me up Brand new Fendi belt with the F's on it New 550 with the F's on it (Forgis) See a nigga out, put the X on him Hit him with the extras put the rest on him Bitch we play for keeps, ain't no doubt about it Ran out of reds, now we pourin' Wocky My bitch tryna fuck Tadoe, this bitch out of pocket Hit the ho for free, I ain't come out of pocket Team out in Houston, no we not the Rockets (we ballin' though) Brand new Balencis, these not Foamposites Who on DameDot level? nobody (nigga who?) Pull up in a new sleeve bitch with no mileage Need a QP, boy that's four ounces (that's it?) Not nine fifty, I need the whole thousand (bring that shit here) RGS the mob, what you know 'bout it? Nah bitch, we the mafia, we so 'bout it From Chiraq to the D, opps rest in peace (We GLO Gang) Two-two-threes, RIP's, put him straight to sleep (out of there) Pour a whole pint and go straight to sleep (snorin') All this shit I spit facts, this ain't no make believe nigga
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