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Correct Young Roman$e Lyrics
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Artists: K
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King Combs
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Correct Young Roman$e
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Lyrics:
[Verse 1: King Combs] Yeah, lay up You the one with me when I wake up Motivate the boy to get his cake up Ask who the toughest out, they gon' say us So lit, you the one I wanna roll with And what you ask for, what you gon' get We can chill in the hills or the cockpit You can take all my whips like the drop six Ass fat, can't forget about her waistline Out of town, always hit me on the FaceTime Understand I be out here on the late grind Anytime I hit her line, we don't take time ASAP, hit me back like, "Where you at?" Even tie the durag or the wave cap Bad bitch, other niggas can't trace that Fuck with me, have a crib where your wrist at [Chorus: King Combs] I could put you in the mansion, romancin' Girl you look so fancy, wrist dancin' Got a nigga feelin' antsy, don't let the fans see I wanna take you to the Hamptons when we leave the Grammys And we get swagged and we roll, yeah I get bags for a show and I pop tags in the store, yeah We the ones and they know it [Verse 2: Smooky MarGielaa] Tell her quit with the games, I ain't with all these convos Hard speakin' on my name everywhere you go Said you'd keep your love with you, and you wanna let everyone know Oh, I don't wanna get all these haters involved Drop-top new coupes, scoop you up in Lambo (Tick) I forget it, but that nigga swear he the shit Remember times I was broke, me and you went to hit that lick I almost got caught up but you took that shit Get money every day and I spend it on brand new drip I'm gucci top to bottom, diamonds walk like this Diamonds on my neck, no light, and they still gon' glist' Better stop playin' 'round 'fore I get a new bitch Yeah, better stop playin' 'round while you drippin' on shit A young wild nigga ridin' 'round, breakin' shit Young bad-ass boy, they think you wicked after this [Chorus: King Combs] I could put you in the mansion, romancin' Girl you look so fancy, wrist dancin' Got a nigga feelin' antsy, don't let the fans see I wanna take you to the Hamptons when we leave the Grammys And we get swagged and we roll, yeah I get bags for a show and I pop tags in the store, yeah We the ones and they know it
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