Correction Lyrics Darkness (Remix) by Project Pat

Back

Lyrics

Now can't a n***a see I ain't got no time for games
I'm on this Hennessey and I'm quick to shoot dat thang
But f**k dat one of my young n***as'll take tha charge
I'm stackin loot muthaf**k lookin behind some bars

Juicy J the G.O.A.T. (G.O.A.T.), my joint long as a rope (Rope)
Lil' mama roll it, lick it, light it, I want all the smoke (Smoke)
I don't want relations, baby, I just wanna poke (Poke)
Know all them n***as money funny, I can't take a joke (Haha)
What's that in my cup? Hol' up, what's that in your chain? (Chain)
Boy, your diamonds cloudy, it's a heavy chance of rain (Damn)
Bro, stay in your lane (Lane), we don't ball the same (Mmm)
Quarter million dollar watch, I left it plain jane (Jane)
b*t*h, don't act saditty, you with the big ol' titties (Titties)
You got a million followers but drive a Honda Civic (Oop)
n***a ain't playin' with me, they already know what's up
Likе a U-Haul truck, b*t*h, I'm always loaded up (Yeah)

Out slangin brickas tha project n***a row-a
A playa that's fa show-a I'm chargin a ho-a
You wеak n***as know-a you step and I fire
Yo life will expire you need to retire
Yo b*t*h call me sire she flat like a tire
Shot nut in her eye-a on that I don't lie-a
Tha fact of tha matter she blow out tha frizzame
I keep me some powder so I'm gettin brizzain

Play me some pimpin' man
Shut the f**k up

A rebel I be one day
On that track with Gunplay
Out-outcast my whole life so I decide to spit like André (Uh)
Beef is on my entrée (Yeah)
Gin and juice, that's Bombay
Driving fast the wrong way, I swear life is like a one-way (Uh)
pu**y on a Sunday (Yeah)
Business on a Monday (Yeah)
My new crib came with feng shui and my closet is like a runway (Uh)
Come be my fiancée
She f**k me in a Hyundai
My rooftop got a lounge, just sit around and watch her sunbathe (Yeah)
Dinner date for one K (b*t*h)
Shopping date for two K (b*t*h)
Bougie-ass b*t*h made me wait to f**k for two days (Yeah)
Finally got it today (Uh)
Swear to God my mood changed (Uh)
Top off like toupees, drop off, touché (b*t*h)
Yeah-yeah, my mouth is full of gold and I'm a city boy (Yeah)
And my outfit was in Vogue, I'm a pretty boy (Uh)
Bounce, boy, Flacko tell 'em holler at a n***a, G (Yeah)
Ridin' on my enemies (Yeah)
This my ghetto symphony-ny (Uh, yeah)

Yes sir
We trippy mane
Motherf**ker

Out slangin brickas tha project n***a row-a
A playa that's fa show-a I'm chargin a ho-a
You weak n***as know-a you step and I fire
Yo life will expire you need to retire
Yo b*t*h call me sire she flat like a tire
Shot nut in her eye-a on that I don't lie-a
Tha fact of tha matter she blow out tha frizzame
I keep me some powder so I'm gettin brizzain

Skinny-ass n***a in some big Balenciagas
My girl was mad at him so I took the b*t*h shoppin'
Drankin' champagne, spend the racks all in Prada
Everybody know that he a big sh*t popper
Smokin' ice cream, rollin' on some peach cobbler
Hitters on the payroll and a couple doctors
Why the f**k you think I pour up all of this Wockhardt?
Hit the alarm on the 'Rari and it go (Brrt, brrt)
Park the 'Rari, jump in the Challenger (Skrrt, skrrt)
Feds watchin' me so I scramble 'em (Shake 'em up)
Had your b*t*h at the room, but I had to put out
She too freaky, nah, I couldn't handle her (Damn)
My young n***as walk around with chandeliers (Damn)
Yeah, chandelier the sh*t Khaled talkin' 'bout (Damn)
Dolph hit the club, then the b*t*hes comin' out (Damn)
I heard the opps in the club, n***a, point 'em out (b*t*h)
n***a, stop all that hidin' and runnin' 'round (Rrah)
I make your broke-ass brother gun you down (Rrah)
Damn, you too thick, girl, turn around (Rrah)
Lemme smack it one time and see how it sound
Millionaire but I make my boy lay you down
They don't give a f**k, they don't play around
Somebody text me, so I look down
My b*t*h waitin' on me in a Gabbana gown (Gabbana gown)

Yeah, b*t*h, I still wear Gucci
I'm chillin' with a groupie, beatin' up her coochie (Beat it up)
Uh, Glizock, my life a movie (Glizock)
Guess who shoot it? Your b*t*h, I do's it (I do)
Uh, ballin' real hard, no recruiting, yuh (On God)
Paper Route winnin', never losin', uh (Gang)
Before I drop the top, I been ruthless, yuh
Give it to 'em raw like sushi, uh (Raw)
Uh (Yuh), yuh (Yuh), still goin' dumb (Dumb), uh
Mr. Glock, the baguette don, yeah (Baguette)
Exotic smoke in my lungs, ooh (Yeah, yeah)
I really came out of them slums (Out 'em)
I'm finna buy me a house with a pond (Yeah, yeah)
Yeah, and I put this sh*t on my moms, yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I think I was born with a gun (Yeah, yeah)
I'm a son of a gun, uh (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
b*t*h, you know where I'm from, yeah (b*t*h, uh)
South Memphis, filled up with villains and gremlins
Lil' n***as with extensions on guns (Thirties), yeah
Don't play with the kid, you know how I get (You know it)
I get that sh*t done (Done), uh
Maybach on my wrist, this young n***a lit (Lit)
And a Porsche on my guns (Woo), duh (Duh)

music video

Your name will be published. Leave fields blanks to remain anonymous.