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Correct Run My Fade Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: C
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Chris Crack
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Correct Run My Fade
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Lyrics:
[Verse 1: Chris Crack] Do a hundred with a runny nose I ain’t fucking with the funny face I’m still juking off the Motorola, getting zooted People still ride with they shooters I do do do do my own shooting I’m not into losing and I don’t be cruising around Looking for hoes, I be getting this money, I do this Busting not knowing who to trust and I don’t wanna die alone Get me something, nigga ones with the crust And all this twerking is a must, knocking dicks in the dust Let me poet, fourth quarter I’m Jordan, I don’t think they heard me Fourth quarter I’m Jordan, push it bitch, I was up in Sam Goodie For the music, whipping up the pudding with the Huxtables Dozens of the burners in the closet, they ain’t finna stop me Shit I just passed through the lobby, I just do this for a hobby Smoking strong like your body build I ain’t even into exes but I’m popping pills I’m finna kill ‘em like I got a deal Me and Cutta been doing this a lot of years If you get knocked by the people don’t call it crill I pull up to your house where your daughter live bitch [Verse 2: Nate Barksdale] I still ride through the city with my seat back Something thick to my ride Bitch it’s no deal if you’re trying to defeat that You can meet me outside Never let ‘em know what you running Bitch better know how I’m coming All I ever wanted was some money, go ill on my stomach Check twenty-two with the muffin, ’Cause I want it all Bitch it’s no deal, have me standing way in front of y’all I killed the competition, didn’t draw my gun at all Aw skeet skeet, now these pretty bitches wanna crawl Took her to this [?] now I’m ‘bout to make her feel it all Bad shawty looked like Janet, shawty got me acting up mannish But it still smooth like Spanish, and I think she speak a different language [Verse 3: Chris Crack] And we shaking this bitch And we dropping this music Til they know my name Until they know my name You best know my game I’m talking they flame [Verse 4: Nate Barksdale] Packing up my suitcase, boots laced ‘Bout to leave these two-faced fucks in the dirt ‘Bout to hit ‘em where I know it hurts Blood stains on my shirt, pulling off on the plug With the work, yeah [Verse 5: Nate Barksdale] You’re all talk but you’re not about that action What I make, you only make a fraction Shit you know about, got it with a passion Shit you know about, gotta make it happen [Verse 6: Chris Crack Keep my name out your mouth or it’s static Shoelace on the tec, automatic Keep a hipster girl, I want a bad bitch Spit fire on them tracks, [?] Now she keep sending me then sad pics I don’t plan on ever getting married From Chicago so you know I was a savage Bg joints nigga, I ain’t finna pass it I ain’t finna pass it
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