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Correct Post Traumatic Trust Issues Lyrics
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Artists: C
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Chris Crack
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Correct Post Traumatic Trust Issues
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Lyrics:
[Verse 1: Your Old Droog] Sometimes I gotta get away, lay low [?] What you know when I get back to the Iron mics, we dueling, dropped out in ninth grade I couldn’t do the schooling, and the block was too hot So in the stew we cooling, take my jacket off Kicking up my feet, order grub to the lab Doggie I swear I eat, that’s been the truth So in the booth is where I rest my dome, but I’m bone So I wherever I lay my raps my home We got refreshments, pack of Altoids, that’s some freshness For from freshmens, post up by the boards Finessing sessions, [?] to come and test wild d It be the ending near, pull your files like a engineer Without no pro-tools, I demote fools, bring ‘em Down to Fruity Loops, no Ableton, shoulda done this younger Wasn’t able then, was some reckless ass kids Now we stable men, learned to be be smart consumers Read the labelling, on tour I fucks with the shawties But we ain’t in the telle watching Maury, I need somebody To record me, everywhere I go I spark a bowl then mark My territory, come back home off the road, like wanna hear a story [Chorus: Chris Crack] They wouldn’t let my bitch in the club They wouldn’t let my bitch in the club They wouldn’t let my bitch in the club They wouldn’t let my bitch in the club [Verse 2: Chris Crack] They wouldn’t let my bitch in but I’m still lit Popping bottles ‘round this bitch, I found this shit The most I been having so I enjoy my sess I don’t hop in no ghost, bitch I’mma smoke when I smoke Let me get back to unlimited quotes, encyclopedia Seizing me now she won’t be with me, ‘fore I was hot She would sleep with me, relax for a minute You could find me cooking tracks for a minute Get back for a minute, ride through slick Hit the trap for a minute, two clique gangs Was a rap for a minute, I ain’t even hit them With the slap for a minute, get back for a minute It was do or die, rolled in the Lexus, death wish I ain’t even stressing, blessing to all my dead ones Shawty gotta left for a nigga, if he said something Now she wanna ride ‘cause a nigga kinda fresh Hurt her heart now she grinding on the chest You could find me in the best car, [?] That’s summertime back so that kinda means I’m balling Shout out to the niggas that be paying in installments Don’t fall in love, just fall in line, it’s all the times Do prop the nines, I’mma lock my shine Got my eyes, don’t knock my dice
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