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Correct Dipset Symphony Lyrics
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The Diplomats
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Correct Dipset Symphony
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[Mister C: Intro] I don't give a fuck who's first or who's last, the Dipset is gonna rock this shit out at a drop of a brick nigga. I don't care what y'all say, I don't care what y'all do, but y'all better rep Harlem until the god-damned music is through. Mister C, Lets Go! [Juelz Santana] All eyes on the honorable, who? Dipset, back to the grill again live at the barbeque Beefs on, all my kids ride like a carnival Heats drawn, all you kids lie, like carpet do Get up and get ready, what up, the kids ready Now that I'm back, the game is fucked, the bitch let me You front, you stunt, you get heat clown Yeah, punks jump up, to get beat down [Jim Jones] Now eight years ago, I played the bench with dimes Everybody in my park was getting bent off dimes Pitchin packs on the block, tryin' to get us some sneakers Sippin yak, henney, rock, puffin nickels of reefer I'm pumpin on the strip, in the midst of the drug trade I'm watching for the blitz in the midst of the drug raid For niggas gotta eat, it's like my stomach is touching back New York's ryder man, for you suckers I'm fuckin back [Hell Rell] Now can I, kick it? Yes I can They wanna know if I'm G'd Up Yes I am Look, I over-paid my dues, I almost made the news The block kinda hot but the coke came on move If I was a brick, you wouldn't know what to do with me You'd probably cook me up, get a stem, and start using me Nobody built me, I made myself and You don't know how to shoot guns, you'd graze yourself [J. Are. Writer] I Was a fiend, before I became a teen It was dreams, toss for the latest beams (urh) Made in cream, 'cause hey, they kept the kept the powder in the tray Way before it was maybelene I'm into major stacks, major stats, hate on that Cam, holla 'cause I'm gonna bring his label plaques That aint made of plat, whoa, your jewellery aint gold You cop ya jewellery from Hov, they all fade to black [40 Cal] When I was nine years old I realized who was a roll [?] At the end I cop a benz when I chop some O's, Forty Smokin lye, optimoz, poppin mo's, we both shoppin? Difference is you coppin clothes, I'll show you how to drop a rolls, Whether a phantom or a flower, I'm a killa like Jaffi Joe I'm from where they made the cocky flow While hoes puck up on my stick, like you trying to hit a hockey goal [Un Kasa] I keep a nine in my dresser, lyrical professer Keep you under pressure, aint a nigga better Mind like a com-puter, sick shooters You'll get finned, go to war with six shooters I bone bitches with coupes and big hooters Give head, and piff buddha, pump bricks and sip luha Ha you hard, you runnin with state troopers My niggas is straight shooters, c*** back, and straight shoot ya [Mister C: Outro] Not in my book, never that nigga, I'll ask y'all niggas to go till the motherfuckin beat stops, When I had the dipset right, I had Juelz Santana, Jim Jones, Hell Rell, jr Writer, 40 Cal, Un kasa, Dipset Forever nigga, Mister C signin' off, Duke Da God
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