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Correct 88 Coupes Lyrics
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Artists: F
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French Montana
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Correct 88 Coupes
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Lyrics:
(French Montana) Hah! Cuz I don't know what they totin You niggas smokin that Lamar Odom 88 coupes like a car lot I be 88 stars off the floor hop You need the Phantom Rolls Flippin work, comin back like Derek Rose Don't call me, I'mma call you Sicily, bread, olive oil Stop beggin nigga I don't owe you And once you cross the line nigga I don't know you Make about quarter mill a week Man that closet like Fashion Week Slingin drugs, dealers got the package I still make Salat 5 times a day Tryna send mama to Mecca While a nigga snortin pound with the liquor Man watch for the stick up, (prrrp) G-O-D GOD flow Don Juan de Marco, lot like car show Feel for ya, nobody to kill for ya Wanna tell ya story but guys won't bear with you And nah, I ain't tryna get bread wit you So go and tell yo bitch to split the bill wit you I'm countin commas, tryna die with honor Took some cake home, pills smoking marijuana Corner block cuz yo boy owe us Young boy shooter like Jamal Coffey Bricks in the basement, givin niggas spaces Clips in the Matrix, slid with the waitress 5 stars tell em, said she 16 Nah that's R. Kelly, my niggas war ready Gifted and cursed, next step could be the worse Next coupe could be ya hearse Man this shit hard when it hurt though My niggas slingin hard in front of church doors Man slingin hard was the first tour Now it's H. Fraud on a surf board I be clean as a whistle Team is official Black and white diamonds, all I need is a whistle (Jadakiss) My weed is the issue Now may I proceed to kiss you? They put you where both of yall single men Home-made speaker outta the Pringle can Can't wait to do your thing again When they mention your name the bells ring again Gettin that cake, it cause friction They love turn that hate to addiction Mind thinker but echo prescriptions Up in the presidential suite with a vixen A lot of suckers in the bizz Good die young, sucka niggas live Quickest way to go, fuckin with the kids He ain't gon stop til you pluck him with the SIG Lost 100 thou, fuckin with the Knicks Flyin on a brukler, bucket full of bricks Last night club, fuck it, where the bitch Cuz money in the field but I fuckin with the 6 Words of advice, run through the game Niggas know the hood run through my veins Real subtle with great poise Pure bundles, a straight boy Smoke loud, make noise Dream Team, rafe boys RIP Darry D and Nutty aka Troy (Outro) What? D block & Coke Boys Pushin Yea Uh Fuck wit me Harry Fraud's a bad motherfucker Yea Uh This shit is stupid
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