Correction Paroles 100 or Nun par Kenny Mason

Featuring(s) : Tony Shhnow

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Paroles

[Intro: Kenny Mason]
(COUPE)
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
You don't need none
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey

[Verse 1: Kenny Mason]
I'm back in the six on nine shit
Ride with that pistol on my hip
Started to notice your vibe switched
Started to notice your side switched
Soon as my bank account size did
My name ringing bells and you chimed in
I'm straight out of Hell with that fire
She straight out of Heaven, divine
I just fell in love with a bi chick
In love with the fact that she like chicks
In love with that ass and them thighs, hips, еyes, lips, and way that her mind built
I might buy the building for just us just to show you how diffеrent that I'm built
'Cause back when a nigga was fucked up, you was by me when I couldn't buy shit

[Bridge: Kenny Mason]
I might ride with my brother to buy zips
I might ride with my brother to fire shit
I might ride with that cutter to slice shit
Whole time you the one on my mind
On the side where they makin' them pies flip
On the side, every age above nine killed
On the side where I gotta keep my eyes peeled
You the number one prize in my eyes

[Chorus: Kenny Mason]
Yeah, yeah, it's a hundred or none
Give a fuck what a fuck nigga say, she the one that I want
I got ninety-nine problems, but it's a hundred or none
Give a fuck what a fuck nigga say, she the one that I want

[Post-Chorus: Kenny Mason]
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
You don't need nothin'
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey

[Verse 2: Tony Shhnow]
I think this that one in my dreams
Pour Act' on the scene and my jewelry go skeets
If you think I'm conceited, you should meet my bitch
I enter with two 'cause I don't like to pick
I don't care what you say, they both my bitches
I might tell a joke, but I can't tell a lie
My bitch too conceited, she only know bi
It's cold on the street, my dog sleep with that fire
If your eyes don't sit wide, then it's slim on this side
I'm plug motivation, this street 101
I talk to myself, y'all ain't talking 'bout nothin'
I didn't get her number, I know she the one
I ain't the jealous type, I let my bitch fuck my other bitch
I hug the money, she cuddle my wrist
Barehanded, been beatin' the block, I got cuts on my fists
We shoot with precision, she miss me, but no, I can't miss

[Post-Chorus: Kenny Mason]
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
You don't need none
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey

[Outro]
(COUPE)

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