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Correct Kids In America Lyrics
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Artists: O
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Oliver Francis
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Correct Kids In America
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Lyrics:
[Intro] Yo [Verse] Lyrically, I blast back when I smash tracks Wipe the sweat from on my brow and turn my Polo cap back Like Ash Ketchum, I take the beats and I wreck em' They talkin' down, I'ma check em', ain't touchin my beat selection, nah Been in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, trainin' up A&R's are blowin' up my phone but I been hangin' up We off the shits, purple weed, I call it Prince Catch me drippin' in some Tommy Hilfiger or some Ralph Lauren My mental state is Professor Charles Xavier They can hardly lift the mic but for me, that shit is weightless I was destined for greatness because I put in the work This for the kids in they bedroom who just don't know what they worth, yo "Who the fuck is Oliver?" Bitch, you ain't heard of him? He'll stick the microphone through a rapper like shuriken Yeah, we four deep in the Camry I flew my team to Miami, that's word to grandpa and daddy I realized that I can never trade this quiet life for hedonism How do these rappers sleep at night with the way they be living? Teaching kids that poppin' percocets and fuckin' bitches All there is to do in the short amount of time that we given Yo, so while I'm here, I gots to spread the wisdom The game fucked up, that paper turn you to a victim Don't let these mothafuckers diminish your character Kim Wilde, we the kids in America Yo, got lemon pepper on my Polo sweater I'm coming for whoever, ain't nobody do it better Sippin' out a coconut and chillin' on the sand Prolly rollin' through my city while I'm thumbin' through a band Man, these artificial limbs, they got me stronger than ever I'd tear you rappers to shreds if I wanted, whenever Ripped knees on my Polo jeans, flannels like its '93 Smoking good weed up on the beach under the palm trees Graffiti streets, broken glass, and concrete Why you lil' rappers always gots to beef with OG's? Now we on the top floor, that's the presidential suite, yo Nikes On My Feet, that made my cypher complete Sometimes I rap 'cause I love it, sometimes I rap for the hell of it Personality split like Mr. Robot and Elliot, yeah My mic check leave you wet like a TEC Tryna keep the Reaper off me, crucifix on my neck, yo Yeah, that's word to Weezy F. Baby Been a few years since the kid did wwaavvyy Bulletproof glass on a G-Class 'Cedes I'ma do me 'til the day I push daisies Shouts go out to Ber, shouts go out to Aahj Shouts go out to every kid who worked a shitty job Y'all can keep the gold chains, pussy, hop in the whip Look me in my eyes and tell me I ain't body this shit, bitch [Outro] Yo All the work 2018, yeah Whole lotta gang shit
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