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Correct Musical Freedom Lyrics
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Artists: B
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Benefit
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Correct Musical Freedom
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[Talking] Ben Hated (Guy): Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey Man, hey Check thi-, Stop that lil' shawty right there Stop lil' shawty right there (Who, that lil' girl over there?) Yeah, get her, yeah get here fa' me Guy (Girl): Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, come here gurl, hey, look here... (I know you aint talkin to me) Hey, hey, shut up gurl, (What?!?! Shut up?!?!) Hey, look here, look here, look here My boy, Ben Hated, he... He wanna holla at you, (What?!?!) my boy... (Ben Hated?!?! I see why his black ass "been hated", Look what y'all ridin in) What? Bitch... Muthafuck... Kick rocks, fuck you! *Takes off, honking horn* Bitch [Chorus:] Steppin outta Escalades & Navigators We makin it so they can't fade us (They can't fade us) So we got to reach our goals Pushin platinum sellin gold (sellin gold) Steppin outta Escalades & Navigators We makin it so they can't fade us (They can't fade us) So we got to reach our goals Pushin platinum sellin gold (If you aint know) [Ben Hated] I stand here all night dressed like mo do's Hustlin up outta four doors Candy Caprices no mo', Escalades twankin Momo's Who lookin, boy we is so pro, slow is just how we seem Yayo weighed up on beams, for geekers that wanna dream That's how I made my cream With a down ass hoe, and a down as scheme And a down as team fulla down ass niggaz that's down for green I see how y'all watch and wait, hope I decide to navigate late Don't run up wrong and meet your fate maker Long as I get your weight maker They call me Mr. Bossy, molases paint silver glossy Fuck what it cost me, I'm Mr. Flossy get the hell off me Ben Hate bout G's, Ben Hate 'bout multiplatinum cd's Hell, Hate bout grind, Ben Hate bout hustle, Ben Hate bout mine Steppin out this time, in aligators, glock for them haters Hollow tips so they can't fade us, big money makers You see me on the seen so clean, black magic gleam Draped up in orange & blue (orange & blue), rollin wit' my team Chorus [Re-Re] Hell nah Hell it aint road, industry execs see me Guys leave, my flow be so lovely Comin through like the folks in the back door See me, be like Puffy gotta get the dough Gonna let me ride the track Seein how these folks be makin tha money stack Matter of fact can't call the cat Cause they chillin like a bad rat breakin off cheese like a Kit-Kat Now check that, the man with the Rolex and the diamonds in his hand Girls in the club wanna holla Cause they think he is the man But I can't stand them pretty ass bitches and niggaz they gettin up on my nerves And while they in my face, they actin fake, I'm kickin 'em to the curb So what it concern, on whether I ball or stand on my own 2 feet Got you niggaz dislikin me, they can't get like me I'm jumpin five bitches, over five geeks Don't make no sense 'til you ask me Cause I'm on top, make you wanna have me I'm just smoke a blunt, march 2 steps in front Cause haters aint never gon find me Try to put the mean mug on when I come around Nigga like you wanna give me a pound But you comin at me like you brainy Talkin 'bout you just wanna be down Yeah right, nigga know you can't get wit' Re So you better just have a seat I'm on top my game, that's why you know my name I done hit that fame now what it's gon be Chorus Ben Hated: Wood grippin, Henn sippin Pistol hold and pistol whippin All lames that talk 'bout trickin Dump them thangs and get to dippin Type of niggaz, that slide all custom trucks With the dubs, all chrome, grill bars, and them 2-colored cuts Pros, stand on the block, they nuts Sick of them thugs and cut-butts Jump in the 'Lac and shawty get cut Hop in the 'Gator woe's get stuck, what's up These bustaz wanna try me, I pull they girl when they alk by me Leave 'em upset lookin mad, and dog, face lookin sad I don't sweat these pros man, I lick these pros man And I bent these pros, Jump in the car with ballers on Vogues If you got a Benz with them ends you cn freak out her friends Sent that tramp out to your partnaz lake, night shake the show stoppers Welcome to my game, I do this thang wit' no shame And if them folks ask, then tell 'em my name, Mr. Ghetto Fame I don't say no words just lay it back Let my girl hold on my strap I don't trust these lames I fuckin crush these lames, touch these lames Chorus
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