Correction Lyrics Roberto Clemente by Dot Demo

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Lyrics

My wrist rotation so amazing
I'm always outta dough
Fresh out the basement, black to basics
New propane out the stove
I keep these eyes wide 365
Can't trust not a soul
I'm out my mind, round the globe
We stick around, we stay poor
For that dough like

Sun dance with the moon
Learn that from the stars
Get down with the groove like
Barely know who we are
No kings in the tomb
Just a gate, where the god at?
Crack-house for the fumes
Table full of raw
Watching bodies get exhumed like
Catch a cookie with a fork
Hit her with the Gemstar [?] like
(Hey,hey,hey)

Stay highway wasted
Faded
Still placing go
I barely made it
Tried to test me
Aced this thing, Paid In Full
Ol' girl had told me I'm her favorite

Know that bitch hate me though
They think a nigga like me 'bout to blow
I come in smelling like trees, out the door
Straight for the dough like

Sun's down, mean it's time for hunting
You ain't gon' die for nothing
I need to find me something
Heads up there's a tide a coming
The waves too wild for it
I need to fly in something
Feel the vibe, take a ride, we buzzin'
Get a little bit of life
And once a nigga strive for something
But the homie 100 miles and gunning
Mashing through the terror like

All I know is get it, got it, swerve
They will fade
I made some reservations
All I got is huevos in my word
Never break 'em
Daily demonstrations
Oh my god, them niggas got some nerve
Serve that bass
Roberto Clemente (hey)
All I made was just enough to splurge
See that paper
Get that nigga urge
Twist that lingo, with that flying spur
You's a faker, born on April 1st
Who gon' save you when that K occur
Ghetto save your blessings, lace the curb
Tony Draper, get that dirty paper
Might just save for later
Might just shave a bird
[?]

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