Correction Lyrics Punch God by Hi-C

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Lyrics

(Yeah, jay33 woah, go, go, go)
(Damn, damn aye, go, go, yea, ok)

Superstar status
Scat Pack draggin'
Hi-Tech splash, I'm a punch gang a**a**in
Wrist on plasma, kush gave me asthma
Run up on me, now he gon' need back up
Gimme 50 feet, lil' b*t*h back up (Damn)
Stars on my kicks, you can tell that my racks up
Stars in the chain, wrist on Aspen
Forgie's on the whip and it crawl like arachnid
Hi-Tech splash, drinking blood like I'm Dracula
Too many hoes on my d**k, I'm a bachelor
Two door coupe, V12 go faster
Hundred on the dash, ima' newm right past you
(Aye, go, go, go)

Too many racks told that lil' n***a, "catch up"
Too many hoes
Lambo truck with the suicide doors
Smokin' on Za, got my face all closed
Shop till' I drop when I'm on Melrose
My n***as in the trap, and they selling elbows
Ice cubes on my wrists, and It's cold like north pole
(Yеa Hi-C man, yea I'm finna really start going in. Alright b*t*h, let's gеt it)
Tell me what's a goon to a God
More money more problems
Big a** gun, bet this GLOCK gon' resolve it
Hole in his head, now his brain is dissolving
Shoot his leg off now that f**k n***a hopping
Shopping sprees often
Sipping on blood like I sleep in a coffin
Ho's on my d**k I got too many options
Hit a hole in one with the stick like I'm golfing
F**k her one time, cut her off, now she stalking
Need DMT, blast off like a rocket
Hit Melrose, pourin' drink while I'm shopping
I don't gotta flex, b*t*hes know that I'm popping
We don't love hoes, f**k once then we swapping
If he get out of line, feed his soul to this yop-stick
Bape Camo Shark, you would think I had shark fins
Body Range Rov' needed both space to park it (Damn)
I don' sold my soul to this mop stick
I'm a young Punch God, I'm a Punch Prophet
Baby ga**ed when she seen them damn bands in my pocket (Woah, yeah, go)

Thats it man, thats it man
Yuh, Hi-C, (Go)
Punch gang, b*t*h

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