Correction Lyrics Still Runnin by Meek Mill

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Lyrics

(KJ, what you got goin' on man?, Let's go, let's go, yeah)
Back of the Phantom to get me some head
Ain't got no purple? Then get me some red (Yeah, woo)
(Young Nick Papz, make it slap)

n***a know I back out every time the pack out, big boy straighten, I finish
I was in the trap house chillin' with the Mac out, gang gang, me and my members (Gang gang)
n***a, we ain't totin' no sticks 'round here, just glicks 'round here with extenders (Big boy)
n***a, don't take no pics 'round here, everybody on parole, sh*t sensitive
I had the check, fell in love with it
I got the neck for the hell of it
Money, respect, get a Cullinan
Come to the lil' block like an elephant
I got a lil' Glock with a drum in it
We the one they the ones cracking
Now forty-five-hundred my jacket, they say I'm too rich to be strapping, yeah, ooh
Suicide doors on the Phantom, it look like you gettin' in backwards
Double platinum, that's a double murder when we slide, I just put a hit on a rapper
Sneak dissin', 'fore you know it, you talkin' to God, and he tell you get in the casket (n***a, get over there)
Stack the M's and spin all the odds, we takin' this sh*t to the maximum, yeah

Must be out of your mind, you think we ain't spinnin' for bro? We spinnin' for sure
Had a switch on me, not a .38, dummy, boy, we be spinnin' for ghosts
They put up for shows, we spin in the cribs and crowds fasho, we spinnin' his shows
And we took L's fasho, but in Chicago, they know we winnin' fasho
You do it for what? You better not say that you do it for (Boom), them n***as be talk
That n***a was f**ked, the moment he ran, he knew he ain't ducking, his ass out of luck
We do it for Von, we don't wait 'til it die down, we load and we do it tomorrow
We do it on feet, ask all the opps about us, and who say we shoot out the cars
That Rolls better be bulletproof, lil' n***a, you know we gon' shoot at them stars
Them lil' b*t*hes ours, I told him to f**k 'em and sl*t her and send it right back to the blogs
Glock with a switch, two of those, and I ride through the city (We ride)
And we thought a n***a died, but he didn't (But he died)
Two Glocks when you ride through Philly (Let's get it)
Tented up or you dyin' in Philly
(You know we slide to Philly)
(Tented up or you dyin' in Philly)
(Tented up or you dyin' in Philly)

(Yeah, Baby)
Anything close to a dub, and a youngin'll walk for a hundred, he down to get caught
Long as I send him the items, consider it bought
I call the shots, I'm the boss
I ride with the semi
Two of them, I can't die in my city
Do a shooting, it ain't gotta be pretty
Catch him out, and we handle the business
I ain't gettin' in no n***a business
Thirty million, my mind in the trenches still
f**k her good, make her n***a not turn her on
They got brodie on camera, he comin' home
Run it from a scale to a microphone
Treat Dior like a muhf**kin' Nike store
And you know he ain't that, why you hype him up?
Any time we have smoke, it's just pipe me up
Never know the outcome 'til you try your luck
Get whatever you want when I'm tryna f**k
And we tellin' nobody can't f**k with us
Put the four in the p' with the f**kin' M
I should never bring the pain on my f**kin' self
Really need it if I ever ask for help
I just know I'ma blow if it's life or death
I made all them hoes who ain't never left
I'm way higher, I'm up in my altitude
I was broke, I woke up with an attitude
Now you play with the kid, he embarrass you
I jump right in the field with no parachute and one pair of shoes

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