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Correct The Symphony Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: T
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Troy Ave
►
Correct The Symphony
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Lyrics:
I’m recallin this motherfucker live from puerto rico Suavemente, these bum ass niggas with they struggle music Can’t fuck with me mane I’m out here sippin mojitos, These niggas under like the 3 chain My nigga avon block still, on the pete rock peek Nigga pete rock hit me, listen I’ll fuck with you This the all mighty bsb, black get em! I’m big block I’m hard knock like fort knox I sling rocks the projects, the crack spots I toke block, this headshots, you dead pop Like web rock, no red dot for a headshot Same george, same junes, dealer mind set Different crack, new money, hustler mind set You wanna cheat the stretch, get in the wines wet Cook some dust up in it, have your …vexxed See that paper flip, like the likatry Every move for the chips, so I remove the piece Shots blow, bodies droppin, I’m a wilderbeast Boc blaze the packs, low flames, good crack I got keys to distract, got keys in the trap Fuck deez and raps, walk fiends with bats I don’t know how to act, I got a fucking problem Or a black hood strap, you want that fucking problem Bitches checkin for me, I ain’t even made a name yet Put me on the track it’s guarantee to be a train wreck Crash course collision any nigga in my vision Tryina stop me and my niggas, intentions of getting richer Heard me on that crossfighter, like we … Now I’m buzzin like a blood talking to his orange son Niggas real want something, y’all know where to find me I be right there on the back blocks so blocks still beside me Find me on troy ave with troy ave, strapped up Niggas get a whole movie clip for tryina act tough Put you in a black tux, body decomposin I got bitches on they knees, and now they ain’t composin Like the dog off the leash man the nigga runnin wild Talking all these pretty hoes like it’s going out of styles Who caught the most bodies, not convicted in trial I raise my hand I got committed to foul, word up Rolling with my niggas and I’m stunting on these bitches Cooking coke in kitchen’s letter, fiend do the dishes Shout out to sabrina, a freebase diva I’m charging for mine, and grand at the 3 fever Hot headed nigga, my temperature on fuego Killing niggas dead depending on how my day go Mobbing like a day go, bsb got yayo Come and shop with us big bro The price go down when I weight more Counting money, getting hypy like a babe bro Digi scales where I lat blow It’s 4 pounds on my waist though Got a spanish girl pregnant with my lil baby I made her get an abortion, I got a mercedes Blood on my hand, money in my pocket I’m going till the law or the lord come and stop me Power to the people and I really got it Streets know your boy selling coke for a profit …great bands, 3 bitches, one frame Hoes in the back, 2 seats just lac All white sheets, I don’t sleep, just nap When we get there, I’ma bust they crack Nigga that’s a fact, that’s how I be on it Your bitch is a rap, I can tell that she on it Playing on my songs, as she sing along Fantasizing bout the time when We could get it on I’m a dope boy swag to the max type nigga You a working ass job office max type nigga
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