Correction Lyrics Arena (Killin’ Em) by B.o.B

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Lyrics

If anybody feeling fresh in the building
Take your hand, hold it high to the ceiling right now
And say damn I'm killing them, damn I'm killing them
I know they feeling me now
And if you too fresh in the building
Then take your hand, hold it high to the ceiling right now
And say damn I'm killing them, damn I'm killing them
I know they feeling me now

And I'm still here with a lifestyle you would kill for
Still here with the same shoes that I had on from the get-go
Straight out of Atlanta, Georgia, for any of y'all that didn't know
And I'm never that hard to find because 420 is my zip code
My back then couldn't get dro, cause back then I was this broke
That's why I got so many hustles, Bruh man from thе fifth floor
What would you do in the middle of the wintеr
When the sun goes down and it gets cold?
Growin' up in a house with no stove, no doors, no walls, no windows
And my brother was always fresher
I would go to school in his clothes, when I did go
So that's why now this the type of life that I live for
Comin' up as a youngin', man some nights I would vomit
I would throw up on myself cause I was so sick to my stomach
Now I'm the sh*t, fix the plumbing
Feel with my y'all, I'm this close
Spent my whole life chasin' chips, where's Nabisco?
My past memories, I miss those
Hey, all I can say is you get what you wish for

Hook: B.o.B]
If anybody feeling fresh in the building
Take your hand, hold it high to the ceiling right now
And say damn I'm killing them, damn I'm killing them
I know they feeling me now
And if you too fresh in the building
Then take your hand, hold it high to the ceiling right now
And say damn I'm killing them, damn I'm killing them
I know they feeling me now

And I'm still here with a black whip full of strange clouds
And I'm still here with the same team, n***a stay down
Still here for the east side, ain't a thing change but the bank account
Hands high when I come 'round cause I'm killin this sh*t n***a, hands down
And I go hard, my passport's like a postcard
Give a f**k if I'm solo, I'll go toe-to-toe with your whole squad
With the soul of a soldier but even still I don't want no parts
And no n***as with no hearts, you c*cksuckers need throat guards
I'm throwed off for the most part, a young dog with an old bark
Flow dumb, but I'm so smart, I compose art, call me Mozart
My nightlife's like a soap opera with two chicks like it's Noah's ark
They got nice dresses with no bras with good bodies like "Oh God! "
From a poor child to on top like a mohawk
But I always knew I'd go far like a gas truck with no park
So no applause, hold the applause
Just put your hand up if you know the song

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