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Correct Black Sinatra Lyrics
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Nick Grant
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Correct Black Sinatra
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Lyrics:
[Verse 1: Nick Grant] Check, uh I got a thing for Benzes throttle engines Hottest lenses, watches, and Taraji Henson Fuck the fame, cause the game brings phony friendships My homie was the co-defendant I had more to lose We hit a lick, he spent it all on shoes Now he need a lawyer and he calling who? What’s a boy to do? A southern nigga with these up north flows Got more hoes than my childhood wardrobe A lot of the times niggas lie in they rhymes In order to live forever you got to die in your prime Too broke for white folk Too rich to be in the mix That's life though Walking this tightrope Put your hands on mine You know the outcome Cash long like Johnny dropped a double album Balcony seats Play the cut Suit cut to a crease Smoother than her ex man Peep the mystique All I got is my word and my two genitals I fuck her good make her reach her pinnacle This for the niggas who, sneak dissing who Probably on more lean than smooth criminal Shucking and jiving streets glorifying jiggaboos When he ain’t making what you make he feel miserable Black Sinatra [Hook] Big bills Big Deal, not enough Got a lot, still ain’t got enough You can have the game when we done with it People say I change Cause I got black cards, black truck, black driver That’s us Black tux at the opera Money and fame, they come with more problems Outlive that, Black Sinatra [Verse 2: Nick Grant] It took a nigga like JG to put me on The rap phenom Who else would he put the cream on? The last nigga slept though Need it up front Quiet as kept though I’m like Marshawn Lynch with strep throat [?] You need a team to win, tell Mello recruit the skill Never sold dope but if I had the money from doing I wouldn’t need a deal, still I am under influence Call me Pablo set the bar high check the repertoire Never trust a chick with leopard print she a cheater Here is the epilogue, I like broads that like broads Classy, never use the N-word in white cars You tripping if I ain’t the hottest, fuck being modest I’ll probably make Rakim and Daddy Kane the proudest She in the crib looking at the walls like you ain’t got no plaques That’s cause those other niggas ruined rap Who is that, gangster living dangerous, where bodies pile up The male Badu, fuck her make her witch her style up Got a pool filled with Jessica Albas we wild bra You niggas hand shakes ain’t matching your smiles bra And that’s the way of life, make it and pay the price Pick a nigga like me, to show your daddy raised you right Nicky blue eyes, know I flow miracles Nobodies, somebody get rid of you [Hook] Big bills, [?] Got a lot, still ain’t got enough You can have the game when we done with it People say I change, cause I got black cards, black truck, black driver That’s us, black tux at the opera Money and fame they come with more problems Outlive that, Black Sinatra
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