Correction Lyrics Cordae Freestyle | LA Leakers #126 by Cordae

Back

Lyrics

Part I: "Kick In The Door" by The Notorious B.I.G

I made my first million by age twenty with slave money
When I signed my first deal, I was hungry and played dummy
'Till I started Hi-Level and signed fly rebels who buy bezels
The truth is they want you to die ghetto
But f**k it, prevail, never tuck in your tail
Remember last summer, them crackers had me stuck in a jail
Up in Louisville, n***a, but I'm stuntin' for real
I got out and took a jet for the XXL
Boy, stop it, the young prophet who drops knowledge
Who copped a Maybach with thе hydraulics, I'm psychotic
I'm diabolic, try a psychedelic
I nevеr try to relish in the sweet moments like a diabetic
Hurry up, n***a, fly a medic, 'cause I'm too sick, I'm too rich
New car, new crib, new money, new b*t*h, all my n***as ruthless
All my stocks blue chips, we Uber Eats Ruth's Chris
New phone, who's this? Never call again
Your favorite rapper, I will slaughter him, I'm talking 'bout all of them
None is excluded, you're son of a Judas
Not one to confuse with, plus I'm making wonderful music
Don't ever compare me as barely any n***a that's near me
Woke up thinking 'bout my grandma, I'm missing her dearly
But f**k it, my feelings, I tuck it 'cause it's money I must get
Mama told me "Get the dolla" and with no interruption
Never discussion, clear mind are better the judgement
Forever I'm thuggin', I promise you the pressure is nothin'
It made me a savage, young n***a chasin' the cabbage
Promise that I'm never lackin' 'til I'm stadium status
I don't even want the fans, I want the crazy fanatics
I know my music may be sporadic, and maybe a cla**ic that's comin'
I'm gunnin' for anybody ever who want it or front it
But I still gotta wish you wealth in abundance
I woke up with this feeling that I felt in my stomach
It's time to f**king kill these n***as, man, my album is coming Motherf**ker
Part II: "Put Ya Hands Up" by Jadakiss

Ayo, I came in the game and didn't take an advance
Nah, I lied, I took a couple M's and acres of land
Watch them same n***as shaking your hand'll end up snaking your mans
Sh*t, I wonder how this fake sh*t began
Made somethin' out of nothin', I'm creatin' a trance
Never let good pu**y in the way of your plans
I'm at Puff house, he got a couple Wraiths and a Lamb'
I just told the n***a, "Bring back Making the Band"
Stop playin' with me, the young God emcee
Rich n***a problems, why I dropped "RNP"
My cars ain't leased, them 'Rari keys I took back
'Cause that sh*t was slowly becoming a part of me
I keep it real, bring it back to the roots
You n***as actin' the fool
All white is the Range, matte-black is the Coupe
F**k the fame, dawg, we after the loot
And I was born with all that sh*t that y'all lack in the booth
You got no confidence, I rose to prominence
Straight dominance, I ain't with that fake kickin' sh*t, let's keep it ominous
That dark energy bring back the park memories
I already defeated pain and fought misery
Embarked victory, my n***a, my car's literally
A spaceship that takes off to Mars quickly
Expeditiously, done killed the game
Put your f**kin' hands up if you feel the same
Like Jada and Styles P, I got the key to the locks
Still thinkin' 'bout that cash, knee-deep in the box
We gettin' real money, n***a, ain't no reason to stop
Got them crackers in first cla** f**kin' peepin' my watch
Askin' questions, uh, I done clashed with legends
Whether past or present, I'm that n***a forever
Difference is my lyrics is dope, spirit is better
My figures in cheddar, I get it from ambitious endeavours
My b*t*h a Coretta, my n***as is wait–
Oh, I get it, uh, you n***as must have forgot
I'm like a young f**kin' Malcolm with a touch of Barack
Got this ball player main b*t*h suckin' my c*ck
But that was years ago, I got the weirdest flow
Been doin' this sh*t since cartoons and cereal
I'm not new to this, I'm true to this, shoutout to Ludacris
My first words "Move b*t*h" when I came out the uterus
It's not really how you get the money, it's how you use the sh*t
Seen a couple n***as create careers just to ruin it
Couple years from now, y'all all see what my influence is
But the album's from a bird's-eye view, b*t*h
Part III: "Super Gremlin" by Kodak Black

Uh, okay, first of all, I ain't goin' pretend like I'm the perfect n***a
I was fourteen mixin' xannies with the percies, n***a
I was fiendin', Holy,  so I'm grateful, that sh*t hurt me, n***a
Now I'm comin' back to take the game with a purpose, n***a
I can feel you n***as panickin', heart cold like a mannequin
Got the game in a chokehold like I'm Anakin
Darth Vader, heart breaker, real n***a, they faker
Word to Belichick, I'm a playmaker
I'm a money gettin' a** lil' n***a, if you disagree then they hate us
It's like how do I come from the trenches
To wearin' Givenchy? I promise my n***a, it's nothin'
Havin' the people resent me to countin' blue Benji's
Shut up, it's the end of discussion
I was just talkin' to Kodak, he told me I'm goated, my n***a, I can't tell a lie
My life's a Kodak moment, f**k up my opponent, I promise it's all televised
Same n***a from the Fridays, same n***a from the hood, beat all the odds
Remember the first time I first met Hova and Nas, told 'em both, "Peace to the Gods"
I'm not from this Earth, I'm berserk, my mom, she ain't give birth
My b*t*h fall in love whenever I f**k 'cause I got length and girth
I just popped a perc on a Sunday while I chill in church
Lord, please forgive me, I ain't perfect, but I'm worth the work
I just made a million off Hi-Level, y'all should buy a shirt
I just bought a crib in India, and I ain't talkin' dirt
I can't go out like a f**kin' sucker, I'd rather die in the dirt
I can't lie on a verse, generational curse I'm tryin' to reverse
I'm still in the trenches, on my phone and I'm dealin' with business
I'm just gon' keep it real with my n***as
I got drip on me, I'm drenchin'
I'm still aimin' for the top position, gave grandma talks in mama kitchen
Some idols look at me as compet**ion
I ain't even trippin', all love to you
Five years I'ma be above to you, y'all n***as b*t*hes like Madea
Even next to my little brother Amir
Grandma house, used to sell drugs there
But it's like, uh, okay you could've been a superstar
Back in the day, uh, used to hotbox in my mama car
Ayy, alright, now it ain't safe for you, ayy
Okay, 'cause you ain't want work for that sh*t
Goddamn, my n***a, you trippin'
Could've been a superstar
Moved them out to LA, but he was out here poppin' bars
Hold up, okay, he ain't want work for sh*t, ayy
I can't feed no grown a** n***as

music video

Your name will be published. Leave fields blanks to remain anonymous.