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Correct When... Get Thick Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: T
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The Game
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Correct When... Get Thick
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Lyrics:
[20 second instrumental to open] [The Game] Who really the best rapper since 'Pac got killed I done answered that question when I copped my deal Ask yourself when the Game is comin, after next summer I predict my shit'll drop before the next Howard homecoming Now who in the runnin, no one, ask the niggaz who want it I got a four-fifth and it just like me, it stay gunnin Me and my niggaz stay blunted fogged up in the 600 Guilty as charged, blunts in the air, guns in the doors It's written, Compton niggaz never run from the law Plus we get Monopoly money with hotels and a board So I'll never see a jail, and I'm allergic to bars Can't sit behind 'em or drink at 'em, so we travel with ours Poppin Crist' in the 6, like we drivin through Mardi Gras Thinkin 'bout beads and titties as I roll through the city And I keep 16 in the clip, and I let 'em all go Like the Lakers did Ellie, Atty and Nick, huh [Chorus:] When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin Payback come through violent, nigga We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent, cause When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin Payback come through violent, nigga We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent [Sean T] No garbage we smoke molta, move big cocoa We off the train tracks like the great space coaster We hit real big and consistant like Sam Sosa Prepare for war, like United States soldiers Lock tight and rock right like grey eight oz's I'll be hittin up spots, in them flip Range Rovers Before you even try to play, foolish all over Empty out yo' pockets, turn everything over We ball out cursin yeah we keep it the sickest When we roll by the quads in them Z-66's Big spittin, grip kitten, that big face greed Always dirty never clean but we live like kings Legendary like Sting, it's a history to follow But not known for stingin known for gettin off hollows Shoot me a glass of Remy, nah fuck it the whole bottle And watch me act bad and take off, full throttle [Chorus:] [Jt the Bigga Figga] I'm from a batch where it ain't no cut, we all in 36 on a triple beam scale for meal Duffle bag on my shoulder my route, through the back of the jet To bag up baguettes and everybody know it I'm the iceholder makin the cut, never breakin 'em up My favorite color is rainbowed up Ain't a coke dealer, but I got bricks for cheap Hit the lab for a fo' day block, we got heat You niggaz can't compete when I walk in the streets We Get Low, and there's no idea with the info It's a rule of thumb, let them dudes a come I'm cruisin some, 20 inch shoes and some I'm in the widebody xm-5, all my snakes is live We check your five, the spot where the tec dies And everybody gotta holla the name It's jt from the Fillmoe streets to cpt
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