Correction Lyrics Drive Slow / Taste Like Heaven by Xian Bell

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Lyrics

Yeah
Bunta-bunta-bunta-bunt-bunta-bunta-bunt
My grandfather used to tell me like

The good die young, everything that he said proven
Ever since Del died, they got my head ruined
My prayers go out to his loved ones, I'm sittin’ here f**ked up
Can't remember the last thing that I said to him, man this sh*t crazy
Wasn't the closest, nah, but every meet was special
Got me recruitin’ sh*t, we almost shared a team together
Worked on our jumper, cone drills, we shared our dream together
And now that n***a gone, but I mean whatever
Not a disrespectful whatever, more like
“REASON, you never made the effort, and now you preachin‘ that he's special”
Touché, those hypocritical lies
These my thoughts while I'm in traffic, takin' off my n***a tie
It's been a long day, but tomorrow I'm paid
Been slavin' and workin' hard, prayin’ I get a raise
This that drive slow music, in traffic textin’ b*t*hes from your iPhone music
You text, you wanna see her, she like, “I know stupid”
Instantly you think about how loud she be screamin' when you diggin’ her out
You in the hood, you could've been plottin' how to get out
But you text your address, and now her n***a in route
So drive slow, ya' never know (Drive slow, drive)
‘Cause nowadays b*t*hes f**k n***as to get some dough (Drive, drive)
And errbody itchin’ to figure a way to blow
As long as you chasin' money you won't lose a single hoe, my n***a
Drive slow
(Drive slow, drive slow, drive slow)
Look, you never know, homie, about these hoes, homie
You need to pump your brakes n***a

Free my n***a Fonz, he taught me this rap sh*t at an early age
The pressure from it can send you into an early grave
Be dead tired tryna make a living from it
Get the little things, take it and get bigger from it
N***as runnin' the game with catchy beats and labels that don't do sh*t
Put every dollar behind it to push your new sh*t
Prayin' the right n***a hear it to make a couple of bands
I swear this sh*t feel like it's higher stakes than Ruth's Chris
And label beatings like you know that I'm spittin'
I know that they listen
They know every lyric, and they respond like
“REASON, dye your hair, they gotta know that you different”
I know my presence lackin' but you know that I'm gifted
I'm tryna tell these n***as
My name should be ringin', I need that bell from n***as
But being real, I don't put enough to myself here
Gotta figure out a way to make music they wanna play
‘Cause n***as quit their dreams everyday and press play
And drive slow, ya' never know
(Drive slow, drive)
‘Cause nowadays b*t*hes f**k n***as to get some dough (Drive, drive)
And errbody itchin' to figure a way to blow
As long as you chasin' money you won't lose a single hoe, my n***a
Drive slow
(Drive slow, drive slow)
Look, you never know, homie, about these hoes, homie
You need to…

Take ‘em to church

Whoo-hoo-hoo
Gettin' out on a Sunday, it's so sweet (So, so, so, so)
Tastes like a little bit of heaven
Whoo-hoo-hoo
Gettin' out on a Sunday, it's so sweet baby (So soulful, so soulful)
Tastes like a little bit of heaven

Look, what you know ‘bout bein' the coldest n***a killin' sh*t?Lyrics filled with gold
And everything you said was platinum, but ain't no records sold
Been tryna get my name a ring (A ring) but ain't no one proposed
I swear that n***a you've been waitin' for right under your nose
Look I've been doing a lotta thinkin' homie
Wish I had a dollar for every time n***as was sleepin' on me (Snooze)
No new friends, no, no, no, no, last thing I need is homies
‘Cause my crew tighter than virgin pu**y
Lately been curvin' groupies and b*t*hes
I wanted to toss me a** now they throwin' pu**y
Man that sh*t crazy, look, my girl don't want me to catch stacks
When every move can change your life
Then every step's a death trap
N***as claim they flow is nice
But n***a I'm screamin' let's test that
‘Cause I swear I don't believe these n***as
Can be anything in the world, but I don't wanna be these n***as
I make my music for the streets, I'm tryna reach these n***as
be my family tree and I can't leave my n***as, that's leavin' tree
Best out, sh*t you could bet that, uh
Mil huntin', comin' after meals like wet naps
Work too hard to be set back
From rookie Kobe air ballin' to becomin' nicer
Than Paul Pierce with a step back
So limits, we gon' test that, uh
They gotta know we were sent here to be kings
They gotta know we will be there-
Yo, yo, P, I think this is the spot, think this is the spot. Pa** me that real quick
Oh this definitely the spot. They got strobe lights out here? Flo got us at the disco
N***a, it's some b*t*hes at this one. I can't wait
Look at the disco n***a. This n***a IT was dancin' on n***as
(F**k IT, this sh*t does look lit out here. Let me throw my sh*t in the trunk too, let's go)
Yeah, yeah, P, pa** me your sh*t- Paul, gimme your sh*t too. We'll put it all in the trunk

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