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Correct Pu$$y Lyrics
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Lupe Fiasco
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Correct Pu$$y
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[Verse 1: Lupe Fiasco] Lord have Murcielagos waiting on the ****a At the end when the time come Get the drop on the weed spot Like there's too much water in the tea pot, huh Lord have Murcielagos on the poor, ****a, pour, ****a They adore the event of war Down force on the doors of adored ****as Does the Lord like to thank award winners? And the war winners'll rewards inner Or the all-enders ain't the pure chemists So the form in this can be raw in this like the porn business King to king 'til the, 'til the pawn hit us If he goes, half a million sold, sold the soul, going gold In the end will it go to the pawn business? You ain't doing nothing with it Let a ****a get it for the low-low-low-low Lames tried to form their brains, couldn't storm it like a dodo-dodo-dodo-do In the Philippines eating chicken wings, smothered with adobo-dobo-dobo-do Vatos, fiascos, votos locos like a cho-lo-lo-lo Gadget go, go, go, go Ratchet ho, ho, ho, ho Santa ho, ho, ho, ho K-Ci, Jo-Jo-Jo-Jo Brown skin brother in a fed box at the hell lil' ****a live there for months Except these young, black males wouldn't drive if you give them trucks ****A, ****a, ****a what I don't give a, give a, give a, fuck With a, with a, with a mind full of money, pockets full of nothing ****As gonna feel what a ****a feel Always been a winner ever since beginner All the way to the end and never ever been a pussy [Hook: Billy Blue] (x4) Pussy ****a, pussy pussy ****a, pussy pussy ****a get fucked Real ****a, Twitter, what? [Verse 2: Lupe Fiasco] Lord, please keep these diablo ****as off a ****a mind Lord, please keep these diablo ****as off a ****a spine Lord, please keep me Fiasco outta rest of these ****a lie These ****a lie, these ****a lie, these ****a lie, these ****a lie Lord, please forgive me for the sinning Sinning please forgive me for the snitching to the Lord Hoping and forbidding to the ribbon ****as wanting to get in, open up the doors Son wanna feel 'em, open up the ceiling ****As start tripping, open up the floor Trap like Indiana Jones looking for a map That I sketched on the back on one of my raps under my hat Coffin is the cousin to the bed that's under my back Dream so real ****as die taking one of my naps Mattress full of money, monster under that sheets full of raps Comfort for the weak, sleep for the whack Party while you slumber, tell 'em money coming, jump in my sack ****As wanna exercise, exercise I-X-I ain't no jumpin' my jack If I lift an arm I'mma lift a car, ****a, that's a gun in my lap Hurdle to the tire, chariots of fire I'm a flyer, take you under my flap Is he going nuts? Is he going bolts? No, going both running my track ****A, ****a, ****a, ****a, ****a, ****a, ****a, ****a, ****a what I just figure, figure, figure you gon' be a ****a, ****a, ****a, ****a what And since ****as is faster than them white folks on the tracks White folks tightrope, like both, I could be a sprintin' ****a Nik Wallenda, runnin' over rap I higher, higher wire, you a wire on a power pad running over that Running over that, running over that, running over that, running over that Five time winner, five-nine, fine line dinner Einstein mind, mind bender Fine dine, nine, wine, find cocaine in my mind Antenna pussy! [Hook:]
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