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Correct Payback (P's And Q's) Lyrics
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50 Cent
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Correct Payback (P's And Q's)
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Lyrics:
Uh, I meet my [?] at the corner store [?] rapping out here, I just want it more Turn the music down, you can hear my stomach roar Bagged a hundred [?] last year, just bagged a hundred more They hatin' but everything that goes, comes back sticky green fun pack Jewelery make me hump back Back packers want that and they ain't bout the diamonds [?] He gon commercial, who you think they rhyming with I got the drama kid and my Obama whip Running up on my stage, Lil mama shit Ugh, lil mama thick And my time is slim Come bout thirty minutes after I put the condom in [Chorus] Gettin' to the dough Louie on my foot Put the metal to the floor, is all a nigga know Payback don't come around disrespecting We don't take that I'm on my leathers every second And my hearts so cold I don't trust a soul It's funny how the bullshit goes you never know Payback don't come around disrespecting We don't take that I'm on my leathers every second They crown me with the punch hat, who better? I hit red skins, smoke green and spit blue pepper Benz blue leather, Jet cool weather Cool meaning hot So I don't need the top Calm down, breath and stop Start and I'm a skip your pulse Mister my life's the shit Calamari shrimp and boats C-notes, 5 Ferrari, different coast I'm a suits em up probably ain't gotta lift my toes I shut my dogs on 'em like Jehova witness I done made it to the top like I said I told you bitches They don't really want me they just want my riches So motherfuck the law, firends, cousins and sisters [Chorus] I turn the club to TV, come dancing with the stars Than I'm in ya ear, in her ear, amping a menage Nigga make the money, but never knew how it felt In a hundred pair pants, that's a hundred different belts Dress kills, chronic helps Pussy just for the moment Ballin' like a Hornet See I get it, I want it Everybody knows, heat hurts you got to show me first Magician, but I can turn them to a Holy Ghost You can bring two, three, four of them, the wars won Tick tock boom, make 'em all run, come on son Big talks just talk, I let my money bark Put my Ferrari in park, give them a running start Go, cause I don't feel a single drop of pressure No, [?] strap foreign guap collector He better stop all the hate, he know my ends straight I clap your girl make the bed break, leak the sex tape [Chorus]
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