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Correct Panic Lyrics
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Artists: R
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Roc Marciano
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Correct Panic
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Lyrics:
[Produced by Roc Marciano] [Hook] I can feel it when the wind blow In the Benzo hangin' out the window You know nigga how the shit goes Get a hundred from the hip bone [Verse 1: Roc Marciano] True G's, boots and army fatigues Niggas cooped up in the P's like sardines Ain't no palm trees, and this ain't R and B We sippin Dom P listenin' to Ron G Nigga we rep the far east, spark the beef like a cookout It won't digest correct, no di-doubt I put my foot down in any event and kick a dent Then stick a pen in your blimp, now witness the strength Til I whip in a bent, my dogs gon' pick up a scent And this isn't French, but niggas have to kiss the ring And momma said there would be days like this And if pussy taste like fish don't give her no dick Clock a grip, watch a clip, friends and biz don't mix And the big gold ring got the Flintstone bling Wrist glow pink gold fat like the disco three For real it's like my shit don't stink [Hook] It was a panic at the disco Thirty two shots yeah that's what the clip hold I could feel it when the wind blow In the Benzo hangin' out the window [Verse 2: Roc Marciano] Well it's the creme de la creme, put me on a scale of one to ten Friend, I'm the bomb with a short stem It's on again, you'll be gone with the wind Tryin' to come at me crooked you'll get caught in the end It's important to win cuz raw is for men Not boys and girls and tricks are for kids I got you like a jigsaw dig The hoes I'm like Fillmore Slim Must I reveal more sin, and peel caps back like raw skin I kick doors in, and hip toss niggas like kids Plus I'm light skinded like Prince, ready to let the Mac 10 rinse As I sat behind the black tints, Califat the mack that's him The rap crack kingpin the grim The Max Payne grin the slave ships Niggas ain't shit they gave in [Hook] It was a panic at the disco Thirty two shots yeah that's what the clip hold I could feel it when the wind blow In the Benzo hangin' out the window If you ain't know this is how the shit go Nigga we shootin' from the hip bone With the pistol stickin' up the rich folk Panic at the disco [Verse 3: Roc Marciano] Steel cage match, peel waves back Reveal a eight pack black, gangster mack Had a suitcase crack, ASAP get aimed at Hardbody never came fat, grey Ac Cocaine rap, my way up in a Maybach mat and lay back Lemonade glass, spank ass, and put crack on the ave Nigga I'm stackin that cash, but who knew it would happen that fast And cats ain't addin' up the math, but came back clappin' at your pad Just for rappin' that bad, and no way you should get a hood pass For kickin' that bullshit, and brag And act like I can't see that that's flab We can't collab with that crab Niggas ain't G, they lack swag So I got to bring the black mag and dead pop three in your fat ass [Hook] It was a panic at the disco Thirty two shots yeah that's what the clip hold I could feel it when the wind blow In the Benzo hangin' out the window If you ain't know this is how the shit go Nigga we shootin' from the hip bone With the pistol stickin' up the rich folk Panic at the disco
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