Correction Lyrics After Hours (Cookin Soul Remix) by Young Roddy

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Lyrics

(Cookin Soul)
Uh

Tryna drink away my pain, that made me throw up (That made me throw up)
They shot my n***a in his back, that made him slow up (That made him slow up)
Might let my b*t*h drive while I roll up
My brother fighting a charge, but we don't fold up (We don't fold up)
My girl say she scared for me, I just tell her pray for me (Amen)
OG had to pay the lawyer fees with cocaine money (What?)
Forty years flat, two of my n***as got the same number
Heart turned cold, damn, look at what the game done you
Might cop the Wraith, the double R's on the headrests
For mama 'cause she workеd too hard, the doc said she need bedrеst
Really from the hood, I take you spots where they be spraying at
Where I lost my mans at, sold my first grams at (What?)
Them goons get the drop on your spot and it get ransacked
Fresh up out the gutter where they shootin' and throwing hands at
Crabs in a barrel, never let 'em f**k your plans up (Uh)
Motherf**k the cops, them crackers shooting us with our hands up

Dope boy, might just pull up on you in a Lamb' truck
Rule one, if you get caught, don't give your mans up
We don't play no zones around this b*t*h, you gotta man up
Ball like I'm Bradley Beal on a b*t*h, and one
Gun smoke, cocaine, that's the sh*t we came from
Learned from my pop mistakes, try not to make the same one
Never wife a b*t*h, them hoes'll leave you when the rain come (Uh)
When them chopper bullets rain, it'll stain something (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
F**k around and I aim at your kingdom
N***as ain't dumb
Look, they tried to pa** it off to them other n***as, we ain't them (Uh-uh)
Real ones rep around the globe where we came from (Uh)
Route sent a kite, I'm like, "Say when"
He know his n***a DZA get it shaking like a paint can (Yes)
Know some n***as hating through the net on they fake 'Grams (Uh)
Really they be pu**y and they really be confused 'cause they fans (Really)
Pardon the fallen (Uh), pardon me darling
I ball, I belong in the Barclay, the Garden
I'm Harlem bred, R and S, they aren't us
This thing of ours belong to us, it's all in trust
Chronic and foreign trucks (Uh)
With all the feats, all our retreats
Jewelry, expensive feets
Women wearing the least
Huh, pose, another selfie for the freaks (Uh)
Rollin' up the hottest thing smoking in the streets

Dope boy, might just pull up on you in a Lamb' truck
Rule one, if you get caught, don't give your mans up
We don't play no zones around this b*t*h, you gotta man up
Ball like I'm Bradley Beal on a b*t*h, and one
Gun smoke, cocaine, that's the sh*t we came from
Learned from my pop mistakes, try not to make the same one
Never wife a b*t*h, them hoes'll leave you when the rain come
When them chopper bullets rain, it'll stain something (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Tires wet like they black gla** (Skrrt)
Trunk in the front, motor in back, you know it's fast (You know it's fast)
I could teach a cla**, but that's too much game (That's too much game)
For me to lay in two semesters, you'll need so many life lessons (So many life lessons)
You'll need to sit down for so many sessions (So many sessions)
Them losses that I took was really blessings (They was blessings)
Above my shoulder is my sharpest weapon (My sharpest weapon)
Like a Smith & Wesson, killing beats and bring them checks in (Pew, pew, pew)
I done turned into a bill collector (Bill collector)
I bought an office space, I'm waiting on the building inspector (Building inspector)
Get these permits, these licenses (Licenses)
Then it's back to balling out and buying sh*t (Back to balling out and buying sh*t)
Always knew I'd be rich, ain't know which woman I would end up with
Player for life, b*t*h, I'd never quit (Player for life, girl, I'd never quit)
And on my tre-first homeboys, I would never switch (I would never switch)
Up, that's that sucker stuff, that's not for us (That's that sucker stuff, that's not for us)
I hit the Rolls-Royce dealer, got a coupe and a truck (Got the coupe and the truck)
Eat my dust

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