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Correct Thangs Movin' Slow Lyrics
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Youngbloodz
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Correct Thangs Movin' Slow
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Lyrics:
Yeah, Attic Crew, Attic Crew and Cooley C my nigga Yeah, yeah, my nigga, it's Attic Crew and Cooley C my nigga Yeah, Youngbloodz, Youngbloodz and Cooley C my nigga Um, Mark Twayne Now it's time to let y'all nigga know about me Oh I can get mo money, mo money, don't come to me And everything I say that be on the blow Rap for the love of money, stack it up once mo' Going once, going twice, got the O for the low Got my cheese in the soil, tryin' to make my flow grow Hell no, never fall off Slip pimpin', you can get it hard or get it soft All day, round the clock tryin' to get it in I ain't worried bout' the rich, cause I'm in the wind All I got is my folks, Lord forgive me for my sins And if this ain't for me, please make me thank again Gotta get my shit right, tight like these gurls draws Let me recognize the game, and all the flaws While I'm out here, please let me come up And watch my every step so I don't have to duck Never wanted this, damn how a nigga stuck? Hit me on the hill nigga, I'm a' sack it up Rabbit on my head all day for good luck On the hustle everyday, but who really gives a fuck [Hook:] So what you got, when you ain't got nothing to show Thangs movin' slow, can't get your hands on no blow Ain't got no flow, naw, need some quick cash If hustlin' is the answer nigga, get up off your ass I walk about the crib, with my mind on the dough Been hustlin' these verses, ain't got a damn thang to show I keep my head up, because I feel it's bout to pop Done heard about a deal going down at the dock Critics say it don't stop, til' you get it and it's gone It's all about the fett', set it off, get it crunk You catch me on the corner, I'll be buddy with the sacks Off in the studio it be Twayne with the tracks Fire, fire, like that dope gettin' smoked everyday Got a call from my source, he on the way with the llell' (yeah) Coming in from overseas, bout' 82 ki's Not a word to be said, everybody hit your knees, lets leave Get the cheese, make away with the blow Slip in the door, right before we do the show Mr. Dope Man, your looking kinda sick Thangs movin' slow now that you ain't got shit [Hook:] So what you got now, you out of luck Sellin' your soul to the devil, just to make a quicker buck But for what, you took a chance, recieving half of some blow And pushing them quarter ki's underground to keep the flow It's toe to toe, we can take it to the deepest of the seas And anybody else who wanna bite, then try a piece Of these Youngbloodz, bustin' 30 slugs, so just perhaps You crawlin' out of a shell Finding ways up out these traps Like craps, you out to gamble, losing everything you own And still like to pretend as if this game gonna keep em' known And do know, you in a ball of burning hell So might as well take a ride on the weed into the A-T-L And niggas swear we outdone and out-gunned So what's the first attempt when they got you on the run With fun, they shootin' tons of shots, so whose to blame Nobody but yourself as you hold inside the pain [Hook:]
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