Correction Lyrics 6 Figures by Lil Gotit

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Lyrics

Damn, Dior
AJ back on that bullshlit, slime

Not my slime, we ridin' six figures
Ain't artistic, but you get the picture
One shot at yo' head, we leavin' you simple
Live life on the edge, ain't nothin' but the middle
Give 'em an inch and they take it a mile
Free Lil Rod, he took it to trial
I'm doin' numbers, boy, check yo' dial
Say my name in a song, boy, take it down
Take dope to your home, boy, get it done
My Rollie my twin, yeah, that's my round
We havin' hoes in Atlanta Town
Yeah, these shooters smokin' more than a pound
Drop that bag on a ho, ain't got a mop
Bust it up and iced out my clock
Good sight, thirty round on a Glock (Yeah)
YSL, Choppa Gang, we locked (Talk to 'em)

These n***as cap, they ain't droppin' no dot
Sh*t, I already preached yo' demeanour (Yeah)
Tell buddy, "Say nothin'," he look like a cop (Keep talkin' that sh*t)
Yeah, all in LA in that Rolls (Yeah)
And we havin' hoes, suck you right out your sock (Slime)
Yeah, gun a n***a down with that chop' (Grrah)
I ain't got time for talk, choppa down with like a salt (Chop that sh*t down)
We put that sh*t down, anywhere, off (Woo)
Why? If she not a sl*t, she not my type (Sl*t)
Stand on the dash, bought her the Trackhawk (Skrrt)
Ho, it liftin' up like a bike (Vroom)
The trap got scammers and killers (Scammers and killers)
Ridin' with me everyday
Them lil' b*t*hes salty
Yeah, we slimey, ain't shady and shiesty (Slatt)
This stick can hit like it Tyson (Slatt)
Not my slime, we ridin' six figures
Ain't artistic, but, you get the picture
One shot at yo' head, we leavin' you simple
Live life on the edge, ain't nothin' but the middle
Give 'em an inch and they take it a mile
Free Lil Rod, he took it to trial
I'm doin' numbers, boy, check yo' dial
Say my name in a song, boy, take it down
Take dope to your home, boy, get it done
My Rollie my twin, yeah, that's my round
We havin' hoes in Atlanta Town
Yeah, these shooters smokin' more than a pound
Drop that bag on a ho, ain't got a mop (Mop)
Bust it up and iced out my clock (My clock)
Good sight, thirty round on a Glock (Blrrrd)
YSL, Choppa Gang, we locked (Blrrrd, Big Blrrrd, slatt)

Nineteen, stick with them coolers
Switch on the Glock, get off fast (Blrrrd, blrrrd)
I kissed the curb in that wide body Cat, she grabbed the gra**
Tap the gas, she shake a** (Skrrt)
We treat Scatpack like a C-Cla** (A C-Cla**)
Foenem post picture with money
Then, my opps won't see no cash (No cash)
Try to trap on they a**
Everytime we hit they block somethin' past (Past)
Pressure, but, had to tail 'em
Tryna put some in a bag (In a bag)
From eight to eight K, mismatch ('Match)
No savin' bae, don't try ask
Turned into opp pack in my hood
He my favourite strand, he a cla**ic
Not my slime, we ridin' six figures (Blrrrd)
Ain't gon' test it, but, you get the picture (Blrrrd)
One shot at yo' head, we leavin' you simple (Slatt, slatt)
Live life on the edge, ain't nothin' but the middle (Blrrrd, blrrrd)
Give 'em an inch and they take it a mile
Free Lil Rod, he took it to trial (Slatt)
I'm doin' numbers, boy, check yo' dial
Say my name in a song, boy, take it down (Blrrrd)
Take dope to your home, boy, get it done
My Rollie my twin, yeah, that's my round
We havin' hoes in Atlanta Town
Yeah, these shooters smokin' more than a pound
Drop that bag on a ho, ain't got a mop
Bust it up and iced out my clock
Good sight, thirty round on a Glock
YSL, Choppa Gang, we locked

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