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Correction Lyrics
Sh!t (Megamix)
by
Drake
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Lyrics
Took n***as out the hood like I'm from there So you know it's all good when I come there I hear you talk about your city like you run that And I brought my tour to your city, you my son there, n***a But I had to come through for the remix On my haven’t-done-a-verse-in-eight-weeks sh*t And if a n***a say my name, he the hot sh*t But if I say the n***a name, he still the hot sh*t f**ked up, lucky I don't feed into the gossip n***as act like they don't know, but they should know Yeah, I just think it's funny how they dangling the bait But I'm the one that's killing n***as on the hooks, though And n***as ain't got a grill, still ice-grill hating I know y'all already know Mike Will Made It Just looking at thе numbers, n***a, I feel amazing I'll call Michael Jordan up and Mike will makе it I'm the young rap n***a with the 'Melo deal You need to come to OVO for a better deal Just know a million ain't sh*t once you get a mil' And n***as say it’s all good That’s how you better feel, n***a, nah! f**k that, this year I'm talking big stuff Rolling through the city like a young n***a bricked up f**k n***as gon' be f**k n***as That's why we never gave a f**k When a f**k n***a switched up, damn! Frontin' like you really on that bullsh*t Gun him down, make a motherf**ker do a full flip, chip chip n***a really really on that Crip sh*t Bisquick whip, whip, whip, n***a, move it! Got the toolie, yeah, the piece, I'mma use it n***a ruthless, leave a chump n***a toothless Tell him "smooches", got that white girl Get a tan when I ice her, Arm and Hammer Mixin' venom like a viper, you the buyer I'm the n***a with the fire, you's a minor Now I'm major with the paper, coppin' acres Overseas like a sailor, you a hater And ya daddy in the same boat, you a busta when ya chain go Pourin' syrup on my Eggo, four liters for the eight though To the face, now the day slow, you's a fruity lil' rainbow Real n***a, call me Django, 50 seconds till the say low Wild bucks shootin' halos, every pocket got a bank roll I don't think you really understand me (stand me) Groovy Q ain't keep the nose candy (candy) n***a tell me how you want it with a savage It get crazy where I'm living it's tragic If you can take it from my pocket you can have it You know I got a body bag in the trash You know I got an old thot you can have n***a couldn't f**k my old b*t*h n***as couldn't eat my old pu**y I'm in the kitchen I could tell you how the stove looking n***a all I really wanted was the pyrex A couple hundred body snatchers in the projects You know my plug stay connected like direct I'm in Miami my b*t*hes like "where Lebron at?" I finish f**king her and finish like "where your mom at?" In front the coppers I got choppers for the combat Couldn't believe it my n***as say he was sellin' grenades Keep bullsh*ttin' and ima sit you where the bomb at D.C. n***a, sittin wrist whip dough He ain't know a chopper price get this low See I cop em' in Atlanta bring em' back to Alabama Avenue And tell them n***as "come and get it let's go" Fifty in the Mac take em' back to Benning Road Strippa b*t*hes in my kitchen with the semi's on the floor All I know I want him dead by tonight With his head in his lap and his body at the light Purchase me some Act and I'm a pour me some Sprite Tell a b*t*h keep counting till she get the count right When a b*t*h finish might purchase her a flight Might take her whole life Might f**k her all night Right, you know I hate to say it twice But you pu**y ass n***as ain't bout that life pu**y ass n***as ain't bout that life pu**y ass n***as ain't bout that life Thirty in the clip catch the whole thing Feds know a n***a by his whole name Shoot him in his head for his gold chain You was running ball, we was sellin' cocaine Talkin bout you buyin' bricks, n***a you ain't got sh*t We was sellin' all them keys, we was like the locksmith Twenty-Five hundred for the red bottoms Balmain five bands for the waist n***a I'm rollin' through my city in a new Rolls Royce Cheif Keef 300 for the Wraith n***a A.K, S.K, H.K n***a, three K's like I hate n***as And I'll put you in your place n***a You got shoebox money I got a safe n***a holdup Automatic pistol on a n***a leather seat See a bad b*t*h she my jam of the week All I ever wanted was a kilo Till they hit my little n***a with the RICO b*t*hes lookin' at me, Keisha look at all this change It's the heart of war tour bus full of K's Master P money I could pull up in a tank C Murda shooter know a pill on the way Still [?] Rich n***as coming through you broke n***as better move At your front door got word you got work 3.5 for the key of the purp Now six figures for this fat n***as verse All eyes on me as I'm walking through the church Prayin' lord forgive me, 30 shots in the semi I done paid all of my tithes now it's time to go and get it My new plug don't f**k with the cut My new b*t*h gettin' f**ked in the butt Ridin' by the [?] see me sitting in the trunk n***as say they coming threw but they see me strapped up, what n***a runnin' in your house for the brown bag Feds wanna know how much in the brown bag n***a swinging that stick for the brown bag Your b*t*h even saw my number on the brown bag All I ever wanted was Kilo Till they hit my lil' woe with the Rico Sippin' on purp n***as still got a pint Still moving work n***a ooh what night Ooh what a night, ooh what a night Post a picture of that pu**y get 200 likes 200 likes all that b*t*h getting from me is them 200 likes Made the Forbes and I'm straight up outta projects Still running with them n***as with that work check It go "Brrrrrrrr" with the choppa That's the only way the pu**y 'posed to stop ya Pour out a little liquor, one in every got a ghetto Stack a 20 bill, n***a, tall as Carmelo Winter olympic games and the categories caine Bet ya one f**kin' thing, I'll win a gold medal Why ya actin' like a b*t*h? Lil Jon, my n***a Don't you ever doubt me, I'm like LeBron, my n***a I ain't takin' no shorts, b*t*h, I hit it with the fork f**k a wrist game, use my whole arm, my n***a Snowman, b*t*h, y'all know me Fourth quarter pressure on 'em like Kobe Act like my sh*t don't stink, pocket feel like a bank Neck lookin' like a 40 ounce of O.E Tell me why my album selling, they ain't murder me yet If they do, bury me in a burgundy 'Vette Talk behind my back, you could hate me all ya want But them same f**k n***as ain't shot sh*t yet Yeah, you see me on Gangland, as real as it get They just rappin' about it, I was livin' that sh*t Straight up Talkin' 'bout you poppin' tags, n***a, you ain't bought sh*t Talkin' 'bout a hunnid bottles, n***a, you ain't popped sh*t All you talk 'Nana clips, n***a, you ain't shot sh*t Spending money on these hoes, n***a, you ain't f**k sh*t This for my n***as when they walk up out the house, they (turn it) f**k what ya mouth say (turn it, turn it) Fully automatic rifle, 100 round drum on it with a scope I done had that, n***a (Brrrrrrr, stick 'em) I ain't playing with these n***as, just kill 'em, turn it n***a talk sh*t, I'll blast that n***a Shoot his ass right in front his homeboys Kill the party, drove off and then stab that n***a Everyone vicinity hear the boy ho noise I'm the Zone 1 king, from a whole one thing Threw a 100 on it, shawty, I was doing my thing You tryna get a million, I done did that Aye, keep it pimpin', keep a ticket where I live at Aye, listen, sucka, I got nothin' for ya but a new coffin I'll shoot you walkin' 'fore you get through talkin', n***a! Catch me walkin' in ya hood, trench coat swingin' Mask on, step up on ya front porch bangin' Them Bankhead n***as, they a muhf**ka, ain't they? I'm the realest, richest n***a that you know today famous Catch ya flaggin' in ya hood and ya wanna be a gangsta In ya skinny jeans in arenas entertainin' No matter how you paint it, better see the big picture I'll get ya, n***a, wit' ya, then hit ya n***a! Talkin' 'bout you poppin' tags, n***a, you ain't bought sh*t Talkin' 'bout a hunnid bottles, n***a, you ain't popped sh*t All you talk 'Nana clips, n***a, you ain't shot sh*t Spending money on these hoes, n***a, you ain't f**k sh*t I ain't tryna hear a whole bunch of that (sh*t) About how many bodies you caught (sh*t) My n***as is real thug n***as, them real n***as don't talk Worldstar n***as get caught, wavin' all them guns at the cameras Grown ass n***a, you ain't bout to shoot (sh*t), you don't do (sh*t) You just think it's cool (sh*t) to move bricks Real n***as do it cause they got to I know them real n***as and it's not you And if they see yo' ass round here frontin' Real shooter be somewhere and shot you Man, get the f**k out the booth poppin' that (sh*t) Corny ass n***a just talkin' that (sh*t) Heard about it, read about it, never been around it But you think ya soft ass give somebody that (sh*t) How you movin' round with ya ho? You ain't even stickin' to the code You don't even represent the life right pu**y n***a sleepin' with a night light Comin' for ya head like Fight Night I can get anything done for the right price, boy! (Bad Boy) Take that Talkin' 'bout you poppin' tags, n***a, you ain't bought sh*t If money talk then your pockets ain't saying sh*t I'm in the bathroom getting head from yo' b*t*h And I ain't paying her sh*t You want beef? You don't know who you playing with (Hey!) I tell my pilot to land the jet (Hey!) I'm hopping off, get 'em, we popping off (Hey!) Give a click and you n***as dead where you standing at (Hey!) I'm just a trippy n***a smoking on cabbage Your money funny like Jim Carrey I got a b*t*h and she super bad like Halle And we still keeping that white like Barry I'm a rich n***a, still keep a pistol with me n***a, you ain't f**kin' with a picture of me I got all this cake and shooters with me Just in case you pu**y n***as try to get you a piece What it is, my n***a? What it's hittin' for? (Hey!) Where the car you were whippin' in you video? (Hey!) Where the ice at, n***a? Where them pretty hoes? (Hey!) You a fraud, real n***as already know (Hey!) Broke-ass n***as, I can't stand 'em (Hey!) I hit 'em with the cannon I'm buying off the mall at random (Hey!) Juicy J, that n***a fresh to death (Hey!) Smoke it 'til it's nothing left Peel off, then I'm ghost in my Phantom Talkin' 'bout you poppin' tags, n***a, you ain't bought sh*t My killas got shooters on shooters My killas got shooters on shooters My killas got shooters on shooters Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Knock em down hundred rounds, lotta pounds, kilograms on the ave How you want it? Quarter thang, half thang, whole slab? Young Atlanta n***a pull a hammer on ya Pull up on a n***a in a California Teach a lame how to flip a couple numbers Whole summer dope runners getting more commers Money got me geekin', damn I need more Alejandro bringin' in them truckloads Copy that, get racks, n***a ten-four Choppa bullets just rip a n***a head off Clip long as a little n***a leg dawg Empty that and the barrel just smoke Closed casket, n***a head open Peel the top back, yeah I’m in the foreign Wide body and it sittin' on Forgies Choppa kick like Chuck Norris Ralph Lauren, my engine full of horses Aim game insane n***a I’m a marksman Cocaine white y’all n***as flip porcelain Blow worth a fortune, million on the fortress n***as totin' AK’s like they Glock 40’s Talkin' 'bout you poppin' tags, n***a, you ain't bought sh*t Talkin' 'bout a hunnid bottles, n***a, you ain't popped sh*t All you talk 'Nana clips, n***a, you ain't shot sh*t Spending money on these hoes, n***a, you ain't f**k sh*t
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