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Correct Yes Indeed (Freestyle) Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: J
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Juice WRLD
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Correct Yes Indeed (Freestyle)
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Lyrics:
Run up on me then you catchin' a funeral I scratch it off write it in Roman numerals I fucked that bitch in the back and I swear that I never loved her I just want to hit her I fucked that bitch now I'm hitting her sister Run up on me you get spin like a twister Told you before I don't fuck with these niggas I got my hand on on my hand on my trigger Imma go get 'em, she on my dick hoppin', I'm callin' her tigger I tell her "go figure" She [?], I’m talkin Hilfiger Tommy on me, I ain't talking Hilfiger That bitch a gun Run up on me, I got heat like the sun Count up to 2 cause I am not the 1, uh Better locked up, Akon All my other niggas they gone R.I.P to all they souls, condolences to all they moms, uh That’s just how it is I’m in the bank, makin’ it flip, talkin’ that shit I hit yo bitch just like a lick I’m with the shits, I pass the 'Roc Ain’t no assist, bitch on my cock Run up on me then you get shot I feel like [?], I got the Juice, back when the cut, callin’ it Pac, yuh I’m in the cut with the nina I’m wettin’ it up like this shit Aquafina You run up on me then I’m servin’ em’ bullets like tennis balls Nigga ain’t talkin’ Serena All of my niggas get money for real I do money for shows, I cash out on arenas I take yo bitch, fuck her Send to the cleaners Run up on me then I’m killin’ I swear that my hand on my nina Don’t want no smoke All of these niggas ain’t nothin’ but jokes Run up on me like a.. like a Facebook post, lil nigga, you poked, uh I’m a rich nigga, you broke, uh Must be a pimp, you a ho, yah Run up on me, let’s go [gunshot sounds] hop on ghosts Yeah, yeah, yeah I’m finna catch myself, yeah, uh Breath in and out, I had to catch my breath Now imma spaz on they ass I leave em’ leakin’ on maxi pads Hotter than a nigga in New York with a bag full of clothes tryna catch a taxi cab Run up on a nigga, that chopper blast Told you I cannot do battle rap Fuck ass tryna battle, that shit kill O'neal, rim rattle that Niggas, they snitch, they tattle that Send that shit back, damn You must be dope, bitch I’m crack, yuh Damn, a couple of grams, to be exact, yuh Shit I’m young, rich and black, yeah, yeah So you know they hatin’ that I’m finna spaz on they ass and you know it You run up on me then I’m shootin’, it’s over I got a way with words, they call me a poet, damn Run up on me then I’m soaking That .40 on me and you know that it’s blowin, you know that I’m towin’ Your bitches are hoeing, you know that shit goin, uh I met that bitch on the lowin’ I picked up on a high route, we smokin’, huh Hotbox in the new whip with a new bitch I don’t even know her name, yah Run up on me, that’s okay Got a AK on me, it’s at your brain, yah I put my dick in your main, yah I just may go snatchin’ chains, yah [?]
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