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Correct For The Culture Lyrics
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Artists: S
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Starlito
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Correct For The Culture
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Lyrics:
FN should give me and this nigga an endorsement Yea, we in this bitch Passin' blunts like the three man weave Hit my peace, shift the weed to the Air BnB I just get off the phone with Roy Told him we gon' to leave Let's start this BN war Step brothers CMG Fell asleep on the jig 30 racks on my swiss Used to write my raps like the inner trap When I was serving packs in the jigs Wake up on the trap and with a dirty strap You get murdered by my respect Fuck the three O 3:15 Yea, but what our eyes are Mars Times was hard, I grindin' hard Free my dawg behind them bars (Free Roy whaaddup nigga) Go ahead, matter a fact, bet I file a nine, abort Where's my porn? I forgot I'm on them bars karate in the garage Kickin' shit like moonshine I come from bagin' up cutie pies I can throw you a few extra dollars right fast All you gotta do is drive Say my name that's suicide (What up Trip) New addition, nigga cool it now A couple niggas with me is way too over-zeaulous to shoot it out You keep poppin' off only going to make it that much harder to talkin' 'em down You keep betting, you have a bullet waiting on ya next time you coming to town But hey you ain't gotta listen to me I sell more bags than Lipton tea It's the first week of February Still I ain't took down my Christmas tree The album next, but this for free (Stepbrothers) Cash, 225 on the dash What's the use if not drivin' it fast Don't do hookah, but I smoke the gas Manuever through Uber with bags, to grind like I'm down to my last Ridin' 'round town with a pound and a strap And a bitch that will fly off her ass Riding around with a K in my trunk and the babe look like 9 in my lap I get a check in the mail every month But I grind like I'm down to my last Getting to the bread no matter what Swing on a nigga like batter up All that rap shit is cool and all Until you make the nigga have to back it up I was strapped as fuck, yeah I had it tucked Way back when bro rapping that's what's up Shotty wit me, Elmer Fudd I be spittin' like Daffy Duck Thot bitches out to get me Can't forget to wrap it up I fucked Cashville up, right after Buck I'm still stackin' it up, 'cause I ain't had enough Road to riches, bitch fasten up Keep hands and feet inside the ride Old bitch ain't cook at all Had to fall back like like baptize, baptism Back and forth like badminton Countin' up every last digit and we strapped like ass whippings God speed
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