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Correct If (It Ain't About Paper) Lyrics
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Sadat X
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Correct If (It Ain't About Paper)
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[Hook x2] If it ain't about paper, it ain't about me Put too much work in my hustle to die broke on these streets [Verse 1] I took some money and invested in some hookers Coca-Cola cookers, dick breakers, purse snatchers Wallet takers, money makers, high-speed chaser cop shakers Anything to stop the chief from tracin' catchin' cases I'm cop racist, tired of seein' their faces Been in the back seat too many times with blackened bracelets Which I don't give a fuck, y'all want to see me do bad Cause I get up, get out, get off my ass, stuff duffle bags Sweatin' the doo-rag, yay in the blue bag Jealousy soon as I get down with more than you had Take trips with a bitch a stuff a click up of coke Love y'all but hate cha' city bitches, ya arrogant and broke Quick to pick the jack up, call a crack and send me to Central Use bitches for sex, money, ID's and rentals One tried to claim the family jewels I told the bitch I'm bad news, this cash rules [Hook x2] [Verse 2] I sleep with stars on the low Cause they my everyday hoes It's like I'm scared for em' Fuck around and laugh on em' But I ain't laugh when we lost all them grams though Cause they know they try to keep em' low but we sprang the door Cell bars can't stop ours Amateur broads is like movie stars and cinema screen Ol' shorty right there, I been fuckin' her since she was seventeen She a mean twenty-four now Should I jam the broad raw now The dick say yes But the brain say stress If you put on that dress you make a thousand dollars easy Set chu' up with the rich Asians want to flash them big faces I want to clean operation Like ferry ferry freak off Pay for play, pick the broad you want to slay Do it your way, I'm wait in the doorway Yeah I'm sellin 4-A, doin' it Don't blow me up, don't ruin it If it ain't about money dick, the X ain't pursuin' it [Hook x2] [Verse 3] Yo, let me speak some much all For now, we gon' kill the dumb talk Hold ya fort cause I ain't done And the struggle ain't fun I done sold crack, done that Sold pack, gotta run Yet I'm down for the coin, I need stacks bigger than Pun Ya understand my man, a nigga want to see his nights Pop rubber bands if I have to pop rubber man Cause the chips I got can't take care of my mother and My immediate fam, so I scheme and scam to get some fetti in my hand It done been times when niggas look at Eddie like he petty But these niggas ain't my men Workin' with birds and can't throw the kid no grams But you want to borrow toast when you caught in a jam Niggas'll scram, stay broke, nah I'ma bounce back Get a couple ounce stacks, take that and bounce that Now I got niggas givin' me eight off of g-packs And if it ain't about money, it ain't no need to believe that [Hook repeated to fade]
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