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Correct High Road Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: S
►
Skepta, Chip & Young Adz
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Correct High Road
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Lyrics:
[Chorus x 4] I stay holding my guns I own a lot of them I ain’t heard you scream yet Feds still on the scene I bet [Verse 1: Chip] Yo Fuck whoever thinking they king I got no homage Who taught you to be versatile and took the stones for it Who showed North you could make it out young Without the AC’s, robberies and going cunch, listen up I see the unemployment high everybody scraping Trap rap popping, population trapping Basic but you popping I ain’t tryna knock your vision But I miss the days when if you couldn’t rap you didn’t You’ve seen what buj’ can do to humans that shit real evil I never made p’ off anything that kills people Except for the times I touch mic and kill people I ain’t spoke to him in time he thinks we still peoples Use to be my darg he was in my left titty Chip left nigga’s, nigga’s never left Chippy But I ain’t chatty patty all your secrets safe with me Still touch mic and pop corn stay killy [Chorus x 4] I stay holding my guns I own a lot of them I ain’t heard you scream yet Feds still on the scene I bet [Verse 2: Skepta] Listen The whole city’s sleeping Only the kitties creeping I’m doing vampire hours celly forever beeping In a position you never wish you would ever be in I went to sleep in the morning, I rise up in the evening And I ain’t waiting to die I’m tryna live in heaven Fuck niggas the fiends taught me the biggest lessons It’s sink or swim I’m in it to win Tryna dodge bin, whipping up lemonade when they give me lemons International S Had to book the top floor sit back and reflect I could still be up in the streets with a strap and vest But I’m in the bank doing mathematics cashing them cheques I told my daughter bubba daddy gone be back in sec Like Yakaa Dee your daddy he’s a wizard with words I put em in a verse, now I got some bags to collect And all these ladies seeing is the racks on my neck Can’t the see if ain’t Idris which nigga is James Bond with it I got a license to kill, shitting on the critiques Diamonds are forever my gold finger got stones in it This model calling she wanna give me a home visit Mowa Lola shades, Alyx jeans, Alexander McQueen tees Still the steeze so exquisite I got nothing to prove these nigga’s know I did it Been a top boy before I ever wrote a lyric [Chorus x 4] I stay holding my guns I own a lot of them I ain’t heard you scream yet Feds still on the scene I bet [Verse 3: Young Adz] Yeah I watched my favourite fiend Donna die PTSD, last time I saw her she was horrified What the fuck you know about when you don’t wanna ride But nigga’s hit your nigga so you’re out there tryna hollow guys Everybody got a heart it’s what’s hollow inside Talking to her she so sonic with lies Came with a wap but I pay all my tax I pray my salat Grab my tooolie and then hit up them flats, facts SK, CM, niggas brain ain’t intact That’s three goats spitting rap and we spraying some facts I look at my watch and then I turn on the tap The jakes tryna catch me slipping so I turn off the maps My baby mother will tell you that I’m addicted to waps My older brother will tell you that I was 7 in flats, akh’ I’mma go down the loneliest road It’s hard to spin your life ‘round when you come from the road [Chorus x 4] I stay holding my guns I own a lot of them I ain’t heard you scream yet Feds still on the scene I bet
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