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Correct The Resurrector Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: B
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Bishop Lamont
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Correct The Resurrector
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Lyrics:
My condition in this mic time is scenes with custom motto Pure animal, flammable, no Don King or pre Robing Gibbons No bitches getting my dollar, setting up a trust fund for my daughter Put her through college ‘cause she ain’t never put through what I was put through I promise, no faзade, I’m really a god You fucking frauds oughta really pay homage I sit with revolutionaries, killers, scholars and prophets Build louds with old timers, freedom fighters, iconic I’m a real nigga, fuck it with these hip hop topics Ain’t dropped an album yet and I can jet to the Tropics Put that in your gospel, no squad, no bodyguards when I move through the streets A butcher nigga, I rap with my own beef One life, one love, one got a course, I go for dolo Get on superstars, may go for fans to slap bands and take photos And still got my four four, don’t make me act, react, attack, clap And black light you off the quota You on point, homie? All the time, homie Is you on point, dog? All the time, dog Is you on point, nigga? All the time, nigga Well then grab the microphone And let your words drip You on point, homie? All the time, homie Is you on point, dog? All the time, dog Is you on point, nigga? All the time, nigga So play the resurrector And give the dead some life Boys are bitches, target in my arm, I burn you like Blair witches Niggas swear they hot and they bumping like bad itches Blood baths if you throw me in a batch with whack niggas I’m a murderer, you can send a message through the currier Express angle stress when you dress to be inferior Switching up their top 5, this day is earlier And I’m just having fun eating rappers quite curvier Yes, you can, I bet you can cry me a river Charge it again, fill up on names like plain rivers Snow here where I grew up, rally with my stuff on Worldwide to their eye they calling me the new son Shine on ‘em, burn, put their ashes in pine box Six feet deep between Nina and Medlock Always on point, carry, I can handle that Try on Q, dog, I leave how we hitting back Woke up to the light burn a man different orange With your ass up in here you gotta live to be born Just lasers in storms, I’m scarlet digging Just a small draft of what they plan, acidic rap, nigga, yo You on point, homie? All the time, homie Is you on point, dog? All the time, dog Is you on point, nigga? All the time, nigga Well then grab the microphone And let your words drip You on point, homie? All the time, homie Is you on point, dog? All the time, dog Is you on point, nigga? All the time, nigga So play the resurrector And give the dead some life Nowadays they so mad at success They really they just ruin the whole rap experience Never once considering the fact they lack the fat shit, delirious Delusional, I swear the act is lazy in you Booty eyes rappers with your garbage eyes flooty poop …clowns, stay down, you never understand winning And I don’t give a fuck if you was in from the beginning ‘Cause for real these ogs are old fools And both of you are rapping the latter We outgrow you like palm trees to weeds Say you monster siege, you never break down anyway We put it down any state, any lane ‘Cause people relate to what’s banging Not that I’ll solve ass explaining If you go on but you couldn’t be moved But since you gone we can only assume the game wasn’t for you You on point, homie? All the time, homie Is you on point, dog? All the time, dog Is you on point, nigga? All the time, nigga Well then grab the microphone And let your words drip You on point, homie? All the time, homie Is you on point, dog? All the time, dog Is you on point, nigga? All the time, nigga So play the resurrector And give the dead some life
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