Correction Lyrics Do Bout It by Rooga

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Lyrics

Ayy, ayy, ooh
On foenem grave, you already know how this sh*t go
Back the f**k up
All you bop-ass hoes, all you goofy-ass n***as
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

We killed your partner, now what you gon' do ’bout it?
Pick up a gun, stop rapping and shoot 'bout it
Don't let me drive your car, I’ma shoot out it
Knock him off balance while he is rocking New Balance
We got four cutters inside of Sprinters
Shout out to the gang, they turn n***as to sprinters
Foenem on D like they Leanornd
You better be on point like you Lillard
'Cause we posting up like centers
Ain't tryna talk or bargain with n***as
That choppa hit you, knock a part off a n***a
Oh, you the type that like argue with n***as?
Well, I'm the type to up a Carbon on n***as
I think you think you know but you don't really know me
If you did, you would know I got it on me
I'm something like Manu Ginobli
When I got it on me, we slid and hit four of your homies
One thing I never did is let 'em hold me
Talking that sh*t, n***a, you gotta show me
He tried to run, he caught a four piece
These n***as broke, they ain't got no cheese
Hop in a foreign, it ain’t got no key
You smoking OG? That sh*t so cheap
That’s like you going buying some OE
I am not 2-4 but I f**k with Kobe
They say Red Bull give you wings
But you wanna fly now? You wanna die now?
I'm everywhere like Wi-Fi, he caught a shot from the sideline
You better stick to the guideline
That choppa hit you, in a few will turn a n***a from 62 to 59
We’ll come through with 59, I'm from 59
I put a switch on the Glock for the prrt
So please, don't run up on me, you gon' hear, "Prrt"
I got some n***as, hop out with that prrt
But I got that choppa, so you gon’ hear, "Prrt, boaw-boaw-boaw, prrt"
That's half of them n***as
And why is you riding without it, lil' n***a?
That's how you die little quicker, we slide with them blicks
Boys, you jump out some [?], my n***as kill killers
We hopping out killing
Ayy, f**k how you feel, I don't got no feelings
Shoot at his grils, whip ain't got no ceilings
Back to the money, I ran up a ticket, just last week, I ran up a fifty
I was just broke, I didn't have a penny
Now I put money on n***as that envy
We do hits at night and the daytime
Folks hawked 'em down like he was a K9
I'm talking face to face like FaceTime
But I just heard through grapevine
I keep a .9 like Rajon, I keep a hoodie like Treyvon
He got hit but it ain't done then I run up on 'em like ain't done
Now we smoked your partner and he ain't did sh*t
Everyone out there looking like, "Who did this?"
You talking 'bout some sh*t that we been dead
It ain't no talking, we standing on business
I'm really having my way with this sh*t
You better duck when I'm waving a blick
I'll get on Tracks and play with this sh*t
I don't even know what else to say on this sh*t

On foenem grave, you already know how this sh*t go
Got my blick on me, got my stick on me
Don't touch me, don't even look at me
Back the f**k up
All you bop-ass hoes, all you goofy-ass n***as

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