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Correct 442 Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: C
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Currensy
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Correct 442
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Lyrics:
[Verse 1: Curren$y] 442… 442… I’m burnin’ gas like a 442 I’m rollin’ past that bmw That new shit pretty, these old-schools move I ride city-to-city, my motor fine-tuned I’ve got your girl with me, she so unfollowed you I’m a paper on paper mission, caper to count the loot We super fly fishin’, we’ve got some Gucci shoes Started with no pot to piss in, now I smoke pot and kick it Beautiful stranger… tryna get more familiar New Orleans know I feel ‘em – wherever I go, I bring ‘em Real niggas in the building, smoked out any whip I’ve driven Only focus is gettin’ in the door So we ripped it up off the fuckin’ hinges like: “Where’s the dope? We know it’s in here” …already told us, give it here Can we ball? So high on this motherfuckin’ jet Check my rhymes, I ain’t totalled, I get… [Hook:] 442… 442… I’m burnin’ gas like a 442 We comin’ through, convertibles and coupes My og told me “smash anything in front you” 442… 442… I’m burnin’ gas like a 442 Convertibles and coupes… If it’s ’bout that cash, there’s no tellin’ what we’ll do [Verse 2: Lil Wayne] Money to the ceiling… Pimpin’ is a gift I opened way too early Like my… hair curly, redbone curvy Make ‘em run from this… Alright, lipstick on my boxers – these bitches love my posture Quick frankly I’m Sinatra – I’m shark and you tilapia I’ve got… on payroll, but I grab my binoculars I’m lookin’ for my reason to tell my… I don’t need ‘em Alright – revenge taste better than pussy Man, ain’t got no purple, gotta get it from Whoopi I’mma put it in your mouth, I don’t know how else to put it I bet they ain’t fuckin’ with me, where’s the… Alright, I’m a motherfucker, quote-on-quote She ride this dick like it came off the showroom floor Lil’ Tunechi aka No Baking Soda – I’m high, Lamar Odom I’m smokin’ like a motor… [Hook:] [Verse 3: Birdman] We poppin’ off… We get to stuntin’ – you know it’s bang or ball Rollin’ off – slidin’ free… we clear them streets Third wall, we bend them niggas Reppin’ mines to the end, my nigga High life, we can’t fake… so we’ll show them niggas Take they bitches… bring ‘em home Stunna holla… bang and ball Layin’ low in my old school Top back for my old cool …stay fly in that Bentley Coupe Told my bitch how to get this money Showed a bitch how to get this money Pimpin’ hoes, we pimp this game Got the money, we kept on runnin’ Hard top and that new school Drop top and that new school Roof wide open… out the pound with them big tools What up? We in this jungle What up? We keep it bumpin’ What up? We shine and hustle What up? [Outro:] 442… 442… I’m burnin’ gas like a 442 We comin’ through, convertibles and coupes My og told me “smash anything in front you” 442… 442… I’m burnin’ gas like a 442 We comin’ through, convertibles and coupes If it’s ’bout that cash, there’s no tellin’ what we’ll do
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