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Correct Da Ill Out Lyrics
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Artists: J
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Jamal
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Correct Da Ill Out
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Lyrics:
Yo Reggie, I'm out T-ree F Squad Muddy Waters Don't get it twisted nigga Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok Without the MSG and chopped celery See, I made it, my flavor situated From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases Lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him In the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs And mad niggas in sets that'll roll up in your rest UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted off that 50 sack of ass kick When I'm blasted, my mathematics get drastic That you can't see with bifocals Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vanderbilt I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it Your man'll be like "Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket" It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can win Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids, get biz You'll digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest Then I copycat, kill the rest With no method to my madness Bless the apparatus with the baddest Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet You'll get attached, like a blood suckin' leech When you fall into my rhythm of speech Your ears get embraced with a touch of the bass Head get wrapped up, neck get thrown in a neck brace Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who? Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master Cast to the masses grabs the mic Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after (Tweek, Tweek) To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes Do photo flashes in all flavor S-classes Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back Tie you up, throw you in the Ac' A public figure, who walks around with a jaded jigger Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic Bring it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down Now's the time here yeah Clown where, pick a spot Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight Night fall might call your life, shit is trife On these evil streets after dark Niggas gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk New day, seriously this whole shit's twisted (is it man) It's me bombin on these niggas shitlist and Mally G Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G Hopin to rise in thee, industry with E The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah) Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah) Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters We out for nine-seven, word up, peace
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