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Correct 3 Mins Of Death Lyrics
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Lud Foe
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Correct 3 Mins Of Death
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[Intro] You made this beat? Gang, gang Outwest 290 shit nigga You know I'm rockin' nigga Get your guns up, get your funds up You on that opp shit, get mopstick bitch! Aye, aye [Verse 1] I'll tell you one thing you shouldn't did was diss me I just left your bitch and she already miss me I just bought 1,000 red skullies, boy ain't shit cheap Get dick sucked from your lil bitch, she's a big freak! Big rims on a big truck on a big street Big heat for these lil niggas think they want beef Thick bitch, stash a quarter brick in her buttcheek Your mama might get touched if a fuck nigga touch me I'm holding on these racks I'm toting on this Mac You holding on that bitch she's a rat, Ratatouille Canary yellow diamonds got me shining Juicy Fruity-Fruity We got 30 clips, 50 clips, shoot a movie-movie Hit the Gucci store I walked out double G'd up I feel like Cago Leek, these lil niggas got me t'd up You sneak diss, we catch you in the streets, better not freeze up I give her knee pads so she don't scrape her knees up Bitch you thought I was done, hoe you thought I was finished You fucking with me, they shoulda told you I was a menace I got a loaded sniper rifle, kill your ass from a distance I'm getting money, now these bitches see I ball like the Pistons' Nigga if you don't want these problems better stay out my busines I'm flexing on these broke hoes, call it Ballet fitness A hardhead make a soft ass, he didn't listen I bought a chevy brougham, sat that bitch on 6s Think I'm the gingerbread man, how I bake those cookies They know that I'm a pro, yellow Ferrari, it's a banana boat Its not a joke, you will get smoked, like you was hella dope I'm living lavish, I wasn't living like this 2 years ago You dramatic, shit get tragic we pull up with automatics Red tape on your block but don't nobody know what happened I wish a nigga try to rob me (rob me, fuck nigga) Let a fuck nigga try to rob me! (let a nigga rob me) I'm an Outwest nigga, that's where I be on some hot shit I can't even conceal the Glock cause its a mopstick Why this bitch keep calling my phone? She on some thot shit I remember I was selling blows on that block shit Think he the predator, I'm the janitor, get mopstick I'll fucking get rid of her she was trying to hold me hostage I'm two steps ahead of you boy Don't think I'm scared of you boy We're lamping on your ass if we can't find you we're killing your boys I'm go in with the silencer like these niggas, Ain't making no noise My young niggas some niggas scavengers Like it's Christmas, we bringing out toys I'ma "Jimmy Choo" walker, that bitch a stalker I'm getting annoyed We pull up and we leaving you dead, some you can never avoid The bottom my shoes are red, Christian Loubatin boys I got two bitches up in my bed, one of 'em maybe be yours We riding with .50s and Macs Rolling off hella flatts I fucked her doggy style, nutted all over her back They say I'm a problem child, I be murking them tracks We tape a nigga up like a mummy and call it a wrap I never worked a job, every night I slept in the trap That bitch is full of rats so every night I'm laying down traps GANG! [Outro] No Hooks, Outwest 290 shit nigga Aye, YSN Young street nigga Bitch get your guns up, get your funds up You on that opp shit, get mopstick bitch! Straight gang shit, know how I'm rocking nigga
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