Correction Paroles Fly Gods par Babyface Ray

Featuring(s) : Westside Gunn

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Paroles

[Babyface Ray]
(Yeah)
Yeah (Like one of them old school motherfuckers, man, gettin' money right now)
Nigga, Spaz ain't been home ninety days, man
Nigga already plat' (Already, young nigga, can't tell us nothin')
Shit just different, you know what I'm sayin'? (Fuck 'em, know we gon' get it done)
Yeah

[Babyface Ray]
Look what the streets did to my mans (Look), real nigga, he ain't play the sport, got football numbers
Bad bitch, used to turn it up, now she duckin' calls from him (Oh yeah)
I think Soda came to me last night and told me "Ball on 'em"
Nothin'-ass bitch, still order ones and let 'em fall on her
I just got a plug, but now I rap, I put my dog on it
Niggas on the 'Gram with the work, game watered down (Wow)
Trap popped up with some Trues, let me call around (H-Town)
They say the streets dry (For real)
Ain't nobody got no money, got me askin' why (It's fucked up)
Back against the wall, standin' tall, I bet I'm blastin' out
Jeweler say it's done, I'm like "Okay," like Kidd, I'm cashin' out (I'm on my way)
Yeah, how you gettin' money? I can't see that shit, dog
Why you claimin' her like you don't see this bitch flawed? (Why?)
In the back, reclinin', I got TVs in the car (For real)
Gettin' money easy, went three G on 'em, boy (You know what I'm sayin', we get money on these niggas,dog)
Yeah, gettin' money easy, went three G on 'em, boy (Know what I'm sayin', keep niggas motivated, rest in peace my nigga Crumbs, man)
Yeah, gettin' money easy, went three G on 'em, boy
From rag to riches, fuck the baddest, nigga, pass them bitches (For real)
Had the bag, you finished, sad to hear it, had to laugh at niggas
No more sneak-dissin', I should tag you niggas
Mashin' through the trenches
Clear your tab, my nigga (Broke-ass nigga)
Hope you know, when it go, she gone
Wipe your ass, my nigga, it get deep, listen to me
Hear snakes hissin' for me
Told my boy legit, he like "How?" All he know is hustle
Bodyguards make me feel funny, F&N the muscle
Brodie, he been fightin' with the work, in there jumpin' on it
Mama, she been prayin' for me hard, say I'm up to somethin' (For real)
Lil' cuz, he broke, it broke my heart because he come from money
Niggas hatin', frontin' on your dog like this shit luck or somethin' (For real)
Boy, I know you love her with your heart, but that bitch love the youngin
Young OG, young OG
Presidentials on my bitch now, I got one for me (And my bitch, nigga)
Mob boss, when you see the gang, tell me what you see (Mob)
Take the lean, experiment with it 'til that fucker pink
You would have the world if it was up to me
Boy, it's a world, shoutout Tennessee (Boy, it's a world)
Trophies in the sky, you an MVP
Mix a four of Pai with the MGP (Flygod)

[Westside Gunn]
Ayo, I'm still old school, whack a nigga for his Buffs (ah)
Paid sixty-two hundred for the Dunks
Gucci North Face with the mountains at the pump (ah)
Pull it out on you, who you be? Where you from? (Fuck)
Outside riches, third ward, Me and Bump
Rose Dweller, everything had a drum (brrt)
Back to back 580 parked in front of Eddie V's
Spray-painted dog on the Givenchy
Denim Tears, still droppin' tears
But Auntie Chelle, she should be here
I wish she could see my foyer and my chandelier
Went home, took a nap, came back, the fiends was still there (still there)
Glock with the switch (grrt), pops gettin' hit
Presidential suite at the Ritz, Ricks up to shin (ah)
Margiela trench

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