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Correct Don't Cross The Line Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: F
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Faith Evans
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Correct Don't Cross The Line
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Lyrics:
[Freeway] The name F-are-Double the E The gat hack, are, end where the cops'll clip Back, flip, hands spring semi your V You callin' all, and run to the cops Don't make me wet y'all, with what's under the t-shirt The heat hurt, blew off ya front porch, your backyard Ya'll niggaz like dicks, pause Thick jaws, act hard, so they keep squirting I move work often, like when New York couldn't beat Boston Controllin' the nets, I float on ya block Hop out, post up, move rocks often Shut the shot down, pass it to Chris If your boss got twelve on the neck, ten in the arm And my gat at the end of my arms, hittin' the clip prick Flippin' ya vet, causin' you harm, nigga Ya'll need a place of respect, we runnin' shit [Chorus: Faith Evans] The name F-are-Double the E, tell 'em Don't really wanna cross the line and I don't wanna have to tell ya twice, and Trick, are-O-C bring trouble your way W-A-to the Y, tell 'em Lean back, don't slow up Freeway gets no love Trick, are-O-C bring trouble this parts [Freeway] F-are-E, bubble the ride, and in all Came from takin' the trip, stuffin' the ride, yea I'ma ride it on every of your ride Caught in every broad or market, park it, hop out in deer crew The heat is on perfect, tuckin' the linin' I'm fine and trynna get some tickets for sliding Freeway's in full effect And all these bitches want some millions just to hear my rhyme And I don't gotta boss 'em to give nectar The boy give check-ups, I get neck, when I don't ask When mami's with the ax, make my baby momma ask Look, that's the crime, and I Don't wanna force y'all to give checks, uh Without tax, Freeway shoot ya from ya head to ya toe From ya toes to ya neck That's what the boy brought, extra large [Chorus:] [Freeway] Freeway bring trouble to soloists The sawed off split, get the fuck outta dodge Know this, I came from nothing, so ain't nothing for my gauge to duck You punks, get outta line, and I c*** back, bloody ya tee Pull ya top back, drive through at Mcdonald's In front of Ronald, put ya brains on ya Big Mac, make Sure the bitch don't leave I got a gat and a clip in each sleeve With boxers, so my dick can breathe Breeze through in the '89, delt with my boys with my whistle on freeze That's how you know I got the block on smash Act up, I put your stripper on freeze Me and Sieg', like Snoop and Daz Because tricks that fuck, couldn't give me the ass And they roll up, light up, pass me the trees, come on [Chorus:]
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