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Correct Gossip Lyrics
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Artists: L
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Lil Wayne
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Correct Gossip
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Lyrics:
[Talking:] And I don't walk around lookin for it, you know?, But Yesterday It Seemed to just wander on till it found me, The gossip found me Then why don't you just prove it. How? You don't know how to prove it?, Well, what you just do is... [Wayne:] Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop... (Oo) Stop, hatin' on a nigga That is a weak emotion The lady of a nigga And you could get tipped Like ya waitin on a nigga, and Put a body bag and an apron on tha nigga I give my all behind the mic, But you could never see, if you sit behind the light You don't have to pick me... To win the title fight But I'm gone wear that championship belt soo tight And if I'm wrong, there is no right And if I'm wrong, there is no light I'm tryna be polite, but you niggas in my hair like the nigga on lice My flow is rare, these other rappers nice, These other rappers bark, Some of em' even bite But I'm much more bright I give the game sight So before you dim the light you just might... Might... Wanna [Talking:] Think it over (think it over) Oo Think it over (think it over) Baby [Wayne:] Stop... Analyzin' critacizin', You should realize what I am and start epidamizin' Confident, got the heart of the biggest lion Confident like fuck em all get on my dick and ride it My flow sick, so sick, it's like my shit is dyin' It rains a lot in my city, cause my citys cryin' Cause my citys dyin' But I emerge from all of that, I am a livin pio-neer, sighin' Fear God, not them Steer my Robin Coupe through the streets of the boot... And Soo-woop And, then I leave a tub in the boot, I leave a blood bath, Sorry there's a tub in the boot, now where the drugs at? Like the string of the shoe No niggas want that dapslyrics I'm twisted like the string on a boot, where New Orleans at? I build hip hop solely like a bus pass So in your possession, I must ask... [Talking:] Hey, haven't I been good to you? (Think it over) Tell me, haven't I been sweet to you? [Wayne:] Drag my name through the mud I come out clean Cast away stones I won't even blink A gun is not a math problem, I won't even think Just leave you dead like the meat under my sink Don't believe in me Don't believe me I graduated from hungry, And made it to greedy My flow is like pasta Take it and eat it But I'm gone need g's if I'm bakin' the zeedy You niggas want beef? I want a steak and uh, we be Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where we be Hard body nigga, takin it easy All about my paper, bout my paper like Eazy Why do rappers, lot of rappers, lot of fans, lot of rappers, lot of rappers Lie like actin, cut the motha fucka down Cut the jack... Fuck your props I am hip hop. And I ain't dead I'm alive [pulse]
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