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Correct Illion Lyrics
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Too Phat
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Correct Illion
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Verse 1 (Joe Flizzow) Yo there's more to life than just credit cards and money Now why we ballers sweatin' crazy chasin hunnies? You know it's funny but it's all good though 'cos like everybody else I got a dream to make a million yo Now what? You thought we got crazy bank? You know I'm sleeping in a tent cos I couldn't afford the rent But if I was rich, I'd buy me mad bling blings And fat chains that'll make ya neck hurt and platinum ring rings Just to get the feeling, nows lets pretend we dealin' With big bucks and persian silk rugs and pushin big trucks And 4 wheel drives wit' tv screens and mad audio Got personal trainers to take care of my cardio And Playboy Bunnies to bring me milk and oreos A dozen hunnnies in bikinis and parios To chill wit' me and my boys at our pool parties My make believe crib yo you know be always rowdy My neighbour Britney, she complainin' but she just jealoues 'cos Jenny Lo across the road gets to hang wit' us fellas Makin' money makin' money makin' money Don't wake me up fool im busy with all these hunnies Chorus 2x I wanna make a million Illegal got a billion Yo Joe take a trillion Malique got change for a zillion? Verse 2 (Malique) Well if I had a million you know I'd spend buff fees So I can get sicillians and go kidnap puffy Haha, takeover Bad Boy and merry Jenny Sign Joe, chill with 112 and sip Henny This might sound crazy but Imma do a song with Jay Z With Dre on the beats and libs by Slimshady And do this video you know like really ill, word **** a Hype Williams now gimme Steven Spielberg And remember one thang, I want all rappers in it North, south, east to the west, they all represented And bring some R&B dudes too, prolly Usher So he can do that nose wrestle scene we planned with Busta And at the end we all say, Rest in Peace Big Pun Now guess where I'm gon' be at once the videos done I'll be in Cuba, frontin' with a new pouch bag Wit' the help of James Bond I'll try to bring Tupac back, what. Chorus Verse 3 (Joe Flizzow) If I had mad loot, I'd fill my storeroom wit Tim Boots And start my clothing company sellin' see through Negligees and brassieres, heck ''d sell thongs wit peacock feathers And zebra prints and market my product for sigle grandmothers And tell my agent to get hold of the president Make an offer can't refuse for his residence Then renovate the crib jac'causezi balconies Hire Chef Wan to make me cheese and macaroni Mad tight security, ain't no papparazzi Gon'take shots of me and my boo invade my provacy If not I'll buy an island just off South China Sea Escape mad city life and let my conscience free Under shady palm trees, Kawasaki jet skis And sip pineapple juice in peaceful harmony So that's my story and dreams ya'll fools don't laugh at me 'cos one day my fantasies might be reality Chorus (4X)
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