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Correct Buy You Some Lyrics
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Too $hort
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Correct Buy You Some
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Lyrics:
f/ Erick Sermon, Kool-Ace, MC Breed Verse One: Erick Sermon Whoo!Ah ah, ayahh, ahh ahh ahh And you don't stop, ahh ahh, word is bond, word is bond Now introducing the sound from the ghetto E Double and Too $hort, what the fuck you thought? I come with the ruckus, It's My Thing when I swing I'm Born to Mack, always strapped, with the black gat Who out there I swear boy wanna get touched Roll up, and catch a slug to the chest, so DUCK I talk the talk, walk the walk, now nigga Five hundred S drivin with hand on trigger Crazy Lestat, check my track record Everything I touch is gold since eighteen years old So what that mean?I roll the blunt and puff the indo smoke in it, I trip in a minute Crazy holy doctor holdin me cuz I be rockin B Sewin up like Monopoly, nobody's stoppin me Dig it, Funkdafied like Brat, how's that? I stick and move on tracks while I smoke a twenty sack Who said the E can't rock?That's bullshit Suck my dick and get a big fat lick of my balls You wanna brawl?Punk I thought not You might get beat down and stomped like Sasquatch Your girl, like Keith Sweat, I wanna fuck her Psych, I already stuck her I got rhymes to make your whole head swell up Here's an icepack homeboy shut the hell up I rock the mic with Too $hort, y'all niggaz know what's happenin Everything he touch goes platinum Eyeeaaaah! Verse Two: Too $hort I made a half a million in a week And every nigga on the street got a tape playin me You can't believe it?Erick Sermon, rollin with $hort Rolled from California all the way to New York In big Benzes, G-50 up Now we trying to squash all that East/West stuff We spent years in the studio makin funky tracks Signed a bunch of niggaz with some tight ass raps It's like Father Dom, it's like Keith Murray Makin millionaires but it ain't no hurry Cuz we all in it for the long run I won't leave the studio until a song's done And ain't nuthin really hard about gettin my cash A big phat house with a million stash You other niggaz got this rap game distorted Givin DATs to the label, straight gettin shorted Claim you're gettin paid, but I can't tell You keep rappin in my ear got me mad as hell You talk a good game but I don't believe in you Be smokin lotta blunts but I got more weed than you I guess I see you on the charts in the meanwhile Another face in the crowd plus some freestyle Wishin you could be in the light Promoters pay me ten G's just to breathe on the mic Bitch!$hort Dawg puttin it down with the E Double Verse Three: Erick Sermon Shhhhh! You remind me of my phat gold chain Some of y'all are just small change Be a boss with true true game Yeah yeah Dig this y'all, my Music is Dangerous Atomic Dog, coming through the smog with $hort Dawg Ahhh!Quick with the trig Jack be nimble I shoot like G Mob goes liftin through my window Chik chik pow!How you like me now? The man in the mirror it don't get no clearer $hort Dawg, the E Double, and Breed we roll thick Like girls in C.A.U. with the good power-U Owww!Money is the key to fame So I can live it up with the girls on Soul Train The impact, major league dough like Dave Justice Yo Breed, $hort Dawg, show em how we bust this Verse Four: Too $hort, MC Breed, Kool Ace Like some true pioneers, don't forget it Put the money on the table, let's split it We got enough G's here to make us both happy Tell them fans we ain't runnin no coke factory It's $hort Dawg the real pimp of the century Girls get wet every time somebody mention me I was known for my mackin back in eighty-four I want it all, that's what I keep stackin for Have things that a rapper never dreamed of havin And I can tell them how to get it just keep rappin Life's a battle, headed for the new sun So many ways to get paid, you got ta choose one Now some of the ways to get paid out is runnin your mouth That street life will keep me tight, I'm talkin bout Gettin green, dolla dolla bills y'all That's on the real, somethin you can feel y'all Many claim to have game but you can get that on sale But ain't nuthin they sellin to you but Arbor and Gail I mean Sprinkle Me homey cuz I'm bout dollars and cents And if you ain't haulin dollars well you ain't holler in FlintI'd rather dip dip dive, so-socialize Get loot from the Great Lakes, West to Eastside You tramp, trick, HACH I spit Undergrade if you ain't gettin paid like this The hours of the ATL paves my name Spittin Mr. Macker izzer are you still in the game See I gets paid by the movement of the cut I've been summoned by the cancer, to testify and bless It's that, big mack, like scripture is a phat Kodeje? So hide your hoe from me Southern am-bassador, knockin at your door Leadin a click that's true, checkin knowin all fifty-two See, all you tricks, best behave It's that Southern nigga mack from the city of the Brave I got the platinum caul, yes yes y'all So plant me with the green and them hoes and we can big ball Yeah, now we rollin four deep Double dosin, relaxin, and maxin to $hort and these beats E Double, $hort Dawg, Kool Ace In the place, and be all but bring you straight horror Representin money Buy you some nigga
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