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Correct 47 Goonz Lyrics
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Artists: J
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Joey Bada$$
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Correct 47 Goonz
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[Verse 1: Joey Bada$$] Yo, Badass don't act or pretend, back at it again Hit it from the back, she a addict within I got her on some shit like "I'm a get tatted for him" She a ride or die, slim, when she in the denims Remember it like it was yesterday Another case of "I fucked your bitch, nigga" but a more clever way Quarter in the room to elevate, said if you ever may Slip then hit her on the hip where the Beretta stay Catch me somersaulting my eyelids Awakened from a dream, just perceived how I live So it's make believe, rather unique Lavish, sweet all live in a rapper physique Hit up a show then after retreat back to the telly with freaks Pack up a bowl and we ain't even eat But we got a appetite for cookie creases and treats And they all got tricks up they sleeve [Verse 2: Dirty Sanchez] I'm ashing on the bridge, Mary Jane, fuck your cigarettes I'm laughing out loud, ask me if I'm still stressed, possessed Hope the boys in blue don't arrest yours truly Respect but suspect, protect your neck jewelry 47s and Uzis, well-connected and recruiting I be with my Mexicans, I know they got the toolie I'm smoking doobies with like 20 of my goons Hotbox the whip and let smoke fill the room Even through my lenses, my sense is on the moon Dirty be the name and I came from the black lagoon I'm sick with the ink like infected tattoos Just one love but the two-three's branded on my shoes You would think I had a eighth the way I'm crushing them grapes Had her whining for a taste, that's why she's up in my face Them Apex taking over like we running with Apes What's the verdict? Nothing but a fucking disgrace, nigga [Verse 3: Nyck Caution] This ain't quiddtch but you know the snitch get caught Then get bitched like the bitch she brought, throw your fit then walk When they clip all of your Christmas thoughts There's no giving when they take what you got Placed in the crop circle, doc with a smock, see Art what we drop, shopping cart with Da Vinci Whimpering, leave that risk to your Pros Wrist full of stone, lapidate if they pass me the smoke I'm strapped and irate, daps from the fake Get me mad and I contemplate irrational mode Don't think about nada, strung you by your collar The flow father who balanced out his chromosomes proper I'm going home partner like Posada, they talk beef But toss the ensalada, peep the blue Impala There's arrogant cops who stay intruding Can't stop the 47 like protagonist in Absolution Them wack rappers who track-eluding Critic is a random student who use the Era as a new rap influence Faster than ransom shootings or some cancer fluid I still kill and you can't lose it
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