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Correct Hard In The Paint Lyrics
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Artists: C
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Crooked I
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Correct Hard In The Paint
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Lyrics:
[Verse 1: Crooked I] Yo, they try to keep me out the ranks of the greatest rhymers But I’ve been underground longer than Chilean miners Fisticuff music, give the game a shiner COB’s my true religion, minus gay designers [Verse 2: Joell Ortiz] No way I could sit around watch my homie getting down This 2 quarters, one eighth for the sickest pound Pound for pound, we’ll pound you out Girls say “yo, they fly” Can’t say dick, but yo they try, hit ‘em with a pound, ok bye Gotta keep it moving like dope on the block I post like Karl Malone in the spot Quiet with the jazz, I already spazz And I just gave Four Loko a shot Might wanna chill like wine in a restaurant What the “F” you want? Ain’t nothing over here but some gaspin’ for air And a nice little stretcher to stretch you on Trying to be so so cool and I go fool with the Pro Tools I’m a student of the old school But pass the torch or I’ll have to force you to play a little game of sudoku Put your days in numbers Coming up I was poverty stricken with pain and hunger, that shit weak so Yeah, I’m trying to eat like the motherfucking day that they gave Columbus Nothing but flames amongst us When I say us, I’m talking about the slaughter I’m talking about the new world order I rap that, make ball sacks a nice little snack for your daughter So Hip Hop we fittin’ to hop you on your good foot It’s a problem when that Yaowa hook up with Sutt Sutt! [Verse 3: Crooked I] Hit a nigga like pow, click click pow Bitch get down, spit 6 rounds This kid’s down Living in a whole another district With a thick bitch and a thick bitch get dicked down My dick she put lipstick ’round Take a twitpic, lemme slow this shit down I’m reloaded, 52 weeks this that marathon spit I wipe the earth’s face with you, Farrakhan shit One day, I’mma buy you niggas on that Viacom tip Then take your bitch cause mami flies a cybertron ship Riding around with your vibrant thing Look at the dog that Crooked I became German shepard, put sperm in your heifer Right by that hydrant man BET, top ten list, I ain’t mad cause I’mma be there later Tip my hat to shit like that, well-deserved I won’t be their hater If anything I’mma be the creator Who made a way for you to speak to your people Once a week with that music leak Now look how loud my future speak Innovative, niggas hate it, I don’t care I rest in peace ‘em Eat some beats like a decent feast It’s yo’ instrumental, I just lease them I monster mash and beast them Just what it sound like When anarchy, chaos, and pandemonium have a threesome C.O.B. is getting money, what you boys thank Beamer, Benz or Bentley, I call my garage Lloyd Banks I’m feeling like I’m Baby watching the New Orleans Saints My creole bitch, she got on panties, huh, no she ain’t Last of a dying breed I indeed iron squeeze Fire weed, silverback gorilla if you buying trees Diamond rings, finer things, chain hotter than 99 degrees Dine with Gs, wine and cheese, liar please, you minor league The feds made me sell my Ferrari Spider Eastsider, sorry momma, I’m a rider Flyer than riding in coach, Marty Schottenheimer I will trade hard dick for some hot vagina No country unless your name is Crooked I Read my shirt, what it say? #OKBYE You know I go hard in the paint Hard in the paint I’mma go get it all You don’t like that I’mma go get it all Suck my dick through that hole in the wall I ain’t slowing down for no nigga, naw Stay out my way homie, don’t get involved Cause yo’ fittin’ to fall You don’t know that my flow get in all I’m doper than ya’ll I’m doper than ya’ll I’m doper than ya’ll I’m doper than ya’ll I’m doper than ya’ll…
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