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Correct Gumpshun Lyrics
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Artists: B
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Big K.R.I.T.
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Correct Gumpshun
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[Chorus:] They know just who we are Roll in fo' deep cars Polo down, country bound Tight like Mason jars My grandma used to say Boy you got, boy you got, boy you got gumption Boy you got, boy you got, boy you got gumption Boy you got, boy you got, boy you got gumption Boy you got, boy you got, boy you got gumption [Big K. Are. I. T.:] First off, I'm the country of the countriest Mississippi bitch, what you know about this country Shit? Hold on, prolong, I'm knowing what you thanking Naw, it ain't the chitterlings that got this shit here Stanking Jumping, bumping through the speakers, sub booming Shawty, I've been stroking is what I've been doing Everybody got something to say about how we get down When we get round, cause it's thirty-eights on the Crown Vic So I use a ladder to get down with Ay, thick and for the picking's what I'm fine with Her face ahh! Ass astounding She micro-braided, I pull it and pound it That malt liquor keep a nigga grounded On the porch with my kinfolk lounging Up underneath the stars They talk about my state, but they know just who we are [Chorus:] [Big K. Are. I. T.:] Psychedelic, excelling on Daytons and Vogues Majestic, I'm killing these hoes Sprinkle game of the greenest, the meanest of flows Planting seeds in your mentals and leave it to grow Eager to know, how to get money and bring it to daddy Evenly so, buy me some gators and pull up the Caddy Open my do', jump from my car, round and clean up my Palace Throw on my robe, run my bath water and fill up my Chalice Sit on my balance beam until her belly cream If that pussy needs ramming, I'm battering Player way, tailor made, always in a gator state '92 Bulls on a fool, that's how players play For the win like M. J. Straight away Shook 'em off, no time left, fuck it, fade away Buzzer, it's all over with Champagne with lobster and shrimp, pimp [Chorus:] [Big K. Are. I. T.:] Ay, ay player play on, I roller-skate on I was taught to give 'em something just to hate on Like a Ford engine light, I just stay on Or, to find a yellow belly I can take home Or, lay on cause it ain't nothing but a skill to You either get her done barbecue or meal dude Let the super-fly inside you steer you Because being lame's a disease, it can kill you So let me put you on these hoes Chevy that be heavy and the wall that be Vogue Peanut butter guts with the grape jelly glow Chromed-out bumper with the Cobain do's That's suicide shit if ain't know that Need a lil' pimping? Baby girl, let me pour that Sow that up with some dough on it I was born with the gift of gab, so motherfucker throw A bow on it [Chorus:]
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