Correction Lyrics C.O.D. by Peewee Longway

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Lyrics

Ain't got sh*t for free, yeah (Yeah, yeah)
I don't got sh*t for free, I need C.O.D. (Cash)
Yeah, I ain't got none for free
I ain't got none for free, I need C.O.D
Ain't got none for free, I need C.O.D
It gon' be R.I.P. when you f**k with me
I ain't got—
(That boy Cassius)
Uh, uh, uh
(Swagdot)

I don't got sh*t for free (I don't got sh*t for free)
I need a C.O.D. (I need cash)
My pistol stay on me (Pistol stay on me), it's gon' be R.I.P. (R.I.P.)
Yeah, they do that (Yeah, they do that)
Head, chest, and stomach where they shoot at (Bop, bop, shoot at)
Jumpin' out them Jeeps, we rockin' Bayou like a New Jack (Like I'm by-by)
Fo'-fo' at your crewneck (Pop)
Yeah, they do that (Yeah, they do that)
Runnin' through bands and bought a new Benz, I'm thinkin' 'bout matte black (Matte matte)
Ridin' in a Lyft with a thousand eight grams
They callin' it cash stacks (Cash stacks)
.448s in the backpack (Woah)
I had to hit 'em with the lack-lack (Hit it)

Jump in the Bentley relax
Young n***a choppin' the stick like a axe (Bop)
Stackin' and flippin' the racks
The pack come quickly, like we faxed it (Gone)
Yeah, we back to whackin' (Wow)
Back to droppin' caskets (Wow)
Tell 'em R.I.P., 'cause we heard a n***a askin' (Heard)
Flavor just like Baskin when I pull up in the Aston (Skrrt skrrt)
I just got the drop on where you at, I heard you lackin' (Lackin')
I just popped up over you, I feel like I'm Aladdin (Pop, pop)
I heard that it's up and then it's stuck, then I'm on addy's (I heard; stuck there)
Wake up, watch the mailman back that truck up with my packages
Vacuum seal it, beat it out the backdoor with my savages
b*t*h can't suck my d**k 'cause she got way too many cavities
Twenty-fours on my Bentley, watch the Forgi's change the gravity
I been catchin' bodies since a youngin like I'm Cassidy
I just keep it gangster with the gangsters, that my strategy (What's up gangsters?)
I got Bourne Identity, they call me Longway Jagger
Homie just put fifty in the wankster, he tryna whack 'em

I ain't got sh*t for free (I ain't got sh*t for free)
I need a C.O.D. (I need cash)
My pistol stay on me (My pistol stuck on me)
It's gon' be R.I.P. (Yeah)
Yeah, they do that (Yeah, they do that)
Head, chest, and stomach where they shoot at (Bop, bop, bop, shoot at)
Jumpin' out them Jeeps we rockin' Bayou like a New Jack (Like I'm by-by)
Fo'-fo' at your crewneck, yeah, they do that (Yeah, they do that)
Runnin' through bands, and bought a new Benz, I'm thinkin' 'bout matte black (Yeah, they do that)
Ridin' in a Lyft with a thousand eight grams
They callin' it cash stacks (Yeah, they do that)
.448s in the backpack
I had to hit 'em with the lack-lack (Yeah, they do that)

Ridin' in the Aston (Uh)
Kill a n***a in fashion (Skrrt)
My phone at home, but my chopper on assassin (Baow baow)
Nearly time to bust a move, boy, I move like I'm assassin
Fake gangster actin'
This is not a movie, when you die it's nothing after
You can watch the fire jump out the Draco like a Dragon (Baow baow, dragon)
Lacking with your d**k out, then your ho send me your addy
I can spend a fifty with the savages for a tragedy (Get 'em)
The first n***a get hit, my young n***a gon' start braggin' (Baow, baow, baow)
Keep the cameras at the house, bring the lights, camera, action
Tryna to hit the first target, but we do the sh*t with passion
Better not disagree (Damn)
Better not mention me (You better)
You better not mention we (What?)
I put you on TV, damn (Baow, baow, baow, baow)
Just for actin' like you bad, damn (Man down)
Man down, n***a, too bad (I'm not around)
My lawyer beat the case and disappear just like Shazam
Like what you gon' do in a jam?
You gon' pay me for all of my grams, n***a

I ain't got sh*t for free (I ain't got sh*t for free)
I need a C.O.D. (I need cash)
My pistol stay on me, it's gon' be R.I.P. (R.I.P.)
Yeah, they do that
Head, chest, and stomach where they shoot at (Bop, bop, shoot at)
Jumpin' out them Jeeps, we rockin' Bayou like a New Jack (Like I'm by-by)
Fo'-fo' at your crewneck, yeah, they do that (Pop; yeah, they do that)
Runnin' through bands, and bought a new Benz, I'm thinkin' 'bout matte black (Matte matte)
Ridin' in a Lyft with a thousand eight grams
They callin' it cash stacks (Cash stacks)
.448s in the backpack (Woah)
I had to hit 'em with the lack-lack (Hit it)

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