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Correct CDP Smackdown Lyrics
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The Professionals
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Correct CDP Smackdown
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[Intro] Nigga It takes one, to make a million run, believe it (fuck you think you talkin to?) Mothafucka Shut the fuck up This is it right here I’m official I’m cuttin on you (cuttin on you, cutting on you) I don’t give a fuck (fuck that shit) Get the fuck outta here Frontin, get half the bones in ya body broken Call security [Verse 1: Oh No] Ayo, I walked in, smacked him cross the face Knocked him off his place Threw the first chair, like in Office Space Off the pace, the leg Took off his lace mask saw his traits The crowd screamed loud from the bloody trace Lunged him to the ropes Wild held his arms I put my fist up to the sky And then I punched him in the throat Ayo, Wild, let him go *Naw, let me get 'I'm, Oh* A'ight, bet. Let this fool know 'bout what we do, bro [Verse 2] Ay, you just a copy now We ligers, ready to eat you like Sigfried and Roy Ready to be destroyed, like Floyd Did to Pacquiao, I'm knocking you out No refs here to save you While you floppin on a sloppy foul You know how the Ox get down My trainer Madlib yellin, don't let him throw out the towel So Oh No assembled up a crew To turn these cats into a falafel now But I'll stop for now So instead, my nigga Med can leave a tread on ya head While I celebrate with some Ciroc for now [Verse 3] Sound of the ding, scorpion sting Four-finger ring, can't duck when I swing I break beef cheek bones and a spleen Your girl on her knees, please, some bobbin a weave Easily, I corner your team, bone crushin No punching, one take with a sixteen Maybe this is too much Half a verse, still ate 'em up Flow golden gloves when I lace 'em up [Verse 4] Like Brock told Cormier Yeah, I'm comin for you muthafucka Heavyweight division is weird [?] Gracie, wavy, [?] truly Who he be? Roman/greco, the next flow Roc, Ox native, I'm Errol Spence, Shakeef Thurman I'm swarmin the body, release your soul to the paparazzi Can't save 'em, mama never shoulda had 'em Couldn't raise 'em, known as a guinea bastard [Verse 5] Tag me in, let the goon get off Figure 4 locked on, we own the octagon Broken arms by arm bars moves the ground Tactics, cerebral creepin [?] I'm a mad man, slip in ya mouth and have a yam Hijacked the titles, you'll never get a shot again Prepare for war's my pedigree High power for battle, cdp's auxiliary [Verse 6: Oh No] Yo, let me back in, I tapped it, jumped it Like it's from the buckle, did the buck up Hit em with a buckle, add a buckle up Wasn't ready for the ride, ruffled up They feathers, was it rough enough? Break off the ruffles and we'll rough 'em up I threw a Jon Jones elbow over the rail, slow Using the hands and what hell holds The trust goes the fire from the pyrotechnics No counts needed from the refs when I pulled the plug, they now disconnected [Outro] The fuck is on yo mind? Fall back I told you this shit is mine! Prosperity! Right on! And what's the key to prosperity? (Money!) Money! That's right. And that's why we're here
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