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Correct Mr. Dead Folx Lyrics
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Artists: B
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Blaze Ya Dead Homie
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Correct Mr. Dead Folx
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(Chorus 2x) No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast No money, weed, no cash It's time to get in that ass Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie Don't be acting like you don't see me Believe me man you don't know me (Blaze) I was the first to put it down Reppin' with Twiztid and the clowns kicking the gangsta sounds Strictly keep it underground Lotus in the family, you now how we do Coming for ours and won't hesitate to ride on you Record sales don't make you bulletproof Big time, and we both know you don't be doing that shit that's in your rhymes You ain't a G like me, you ain't the thug I be You watered down, like the punks I see on MTV Where you're motherfucking trees, always asking for smoke Ain't it a bitch, everybody a G when wearing Loc's That's a figure of speech, and I be sick in the heat Whoever think he the shit, trying to claim my territory I'm a motherfucking G with heaters loaded and cocked You's a small time pee-on, braggin of running rocks Bitch break yourself, for everything and then some Hold the mic to my dick, so you can hear me when I cum (Chorus x2) No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast No money, weed, no cash It's time to get in that ass Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie Don't be acting like you don't see me Believe me man you don't know me Never ever was I a bitch hoe, You can put that on my ten-fold Ma pop Grundy and them know I sicko Baby boy got banana clips for his chopper Known to bring drama somethin' proper Check nuts Colton Grundy got handles, I got the J So when I'm spiting from the big oh line, nuts' in your face Dead homie on a ho-port, smoking a Newport Spiting at the bitches, and bumping that new Too Short Life is nothing I can even they to relate to, for real though Being dead is serious, it change you All I got left in this world, is my music to play So you correct if you thinkin', that I'ma do my thang And all the thugs that wit me, throw your shit in the air And wave those motherfuckers side to side Like you don't care And if you feeling like I'm feeling, then it's plainy clear 'Cause it's a whole bunch of dead folk chilling in here (Chorus x2) No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast No money, weed, no cash It's time to get in that ass Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie Don't be acting like you don't see me Believe me man you don't know me (Violent J) It's me and Blaze, drunk driving in an 87 Cutlass Taking turns at the wheel while the other claps motherfuckers You're chick, I'm dicking that Wicked shit, I'm kicking that I'm hitting with the quickness, life's stinking, where the chickens at? You made a wrong turn coming down my block I'll stop your car like I need help, and crack your head with a rock Uh, Colton Grundy the only homie I got, Mr. Dead Folx sparking at the burial spot We about to ride on the world, leave it deserted like Marz Get your wig spilt, by 40 juggalo rap stars A little kid asked me if I ever killed anybody (yes) I told 'em that I did and was warm and bloody I'm Violent J, I'll be around until my dieng day On tour smoking bud, and eating Flying J Look me up under 'Juggla' and you'll find my name And if you don't, then you're dictionary's lame motherfucka! (Chorus x2) No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast No money, weed, no cash It's time to get in that ass Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie Don't be acting like you don't see me Believe me man you don't know me (Repeat Till End) Mr Dead Folx Believe me man you don't know me
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