Correction Paroles 3 Wins, 0 Losses par Young Dopey

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Paroles

What you gon’ do when you get out of jail?
I’m gon’ have some fun
They f**ked up and let me out, again

Innocent til proven guilty, y’all ain’t even got no evidence against me
Get my lawyer a Louis V bag, inside had about hundred-fifty racks
Got beat another case, middle finger in the air f**k the D.A
In the court room with Burberry shades
With my crispy blues on and my high top fade
Gotta look good cause my b*t*h is showing up
One is a Instagram model coming up
The other one is a stripper with a big butt
And I blow ‘em both kisses cause I love ‘em very much
You know me boy I stay clownin’
Money always coming in by the thousands
I stay fly, floating like a falcon
Turned up to the max since a young kid
Now I’m a muthaf**king big boy
100 round clip on my muthaf**king big toy
The benzo got bulletproof windows
To protect my neck and my kinfolk
Counting down each day
I go home and I beat this case
Take a trip to rodeo drive
50 bands on a brand new watch
Oh yeah you know I’m still gutter
The handkerchief is still navy blue color
Want some chili cheese fries with pastrami
From Brolly Hut, Lucy’s or Tommy’s
Followed by 30 pack of modelos
Inglewood, that’s my muthaf**king pueblo
Headed there just to check on the brodies
Catch me on one-oh-four Yukon and Doty
Home of the clippers, home of the lakers
99 and redondo, rams nation
Can’t forget about the Chargers and the Dodgers
City of Champions
You don’t want no problems
Best believe we gon’ win
Just like my case, I’m three and O’ b*t*h
Three times in a row, tried to give me life
But I’m still getting head in Fiji island
And I’m still pouring champagne
With a foreign b*t*h named Jasmine
Hell yeah she got a sexy ass accent
Taught me how to say f**k the police in her language
Now I’m going back to Cali
Where we spray pint in the alley
With a face mask Louis V or Gucci
Catch your ass slippin’ jumping out the bushes
Yeah I gotta stay ten toes down
My advice ‘round here, don’t come around
Right here we ain’t worried bout COVID
Worry bout lil hoes and airing sh*t out
Worried bout the ops, trying to slide through
Worried bout my son, gotta give him food
Gotta pay the rent but got no job
So contemplated what bank I’m gon’ rob
Told Wish we probably gonna rob the connect
He said bout time, I’ll get the goons prepared
That there was about a few years ago
Now the 6th Block record label bout to blow
Know some of y’all miss me deep down
Know a lot of y’all prayed that I went down
Now your baby mama all on my DM
Sending me pictures in her g-string
I tell these ratchets all the time
You gon’ hurt his feelings and make him cry
Keep it real, these hoes don’t give a f**k
Asking me when we gon’ meet and turn up
For the haters, always gotta stay ready
Got a mac eleven barrel fully threaded
So I could put a silencer at the end
Walk up lay you down
Nobody heard sh*t
I’m always on my James Bond tip
Suit and tie, momma proud of her kid
She sick and tired, getting raided at home
The dagger swat team kicking in her door
Told momma I’m really done with it all
I’m still here for that, we gotta thank god
She always told me “Son, you’re very smart”
That’s why I got 3 wins zero losses

My son asked me “where you been dada?”
I picked him up and told him I been at work
Then life went on, like nothing ever happened
Now press rewind

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