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Not Quite Right Lyrics - Artist : Banks, Lloyd
There's a couple things about you character that's
Not quite right I hit your ass up right, terminate you on sight Leave your bitch like Then I'm gone with the wind like the grim We are not like them, you got a rep but it's Not quite right Man, I hold that forty-four tight I show up, all white Leave your bitch like Then we slide, getting right on the ride First off, nigga what your verse cost? I put that on my first cross, Lamborghinis murk off I hit the switch, shirt off, the roof's severed Like a hurricane a met it, purple haze presence And Kush bags, I got the same car Bush had Similar beefs too, my shirt's bulletproof, my watch see through The streets blind you while the cops beat you Nah, the cops pop you, then pick you up and drop you Now what would big and pac do? Probably something colossal So who am I to break trend? My ghetto gospel Heated and hostile, they take what they read about you And immediately doubt you the second you make it out too There's a cool G on my house shoe They don't think you'll pop, they pop up when you're about to Nigga this for the street, it ain't about you Better run as fast as your mouth do There's a couple things about you character that's Not quite right I hit your ass up right, terminate you on sight Leave your bitch like Then I'm gone with the wind like the grim We are not like them, you got a rep but it's Not quite right Man, I hold that forty-four tight I show up, all bright Leave your bitch like Then we slide, getting right on the ride New nigga, old nigga, don't matter Matter of fact line them up, they'll go faster I'm stronger than Castro and you're casper Nothing more than an asshole, who asked ya? There's doe for me to capture, me and my dutch master Chronic and my lighter, I'm tighter than any writer A fighter block igniter, machine fire to face The wrong look will have the doctor tying your face I beat the odds, beat the hate blogs, and a state charge Shit, I'm here, so I can appreciate scars When you're smoking that paper depreciates hard Which can feel like a foot's in the graveyard And the other foot's direction is the pen Gucci on the slippers, you're slipping away again Nigga I ain't your friend cause you knew me back then I honk the horn on them, pour Crystal and Dom on them There's a couple things about you character that's Not quite right I hit your ass up right, terminate you on sight Leave your bitch like Then I'm gone with the wind like the grim We are not like them, you got a rep but it's Not quite right Man, I hold that forty-four tight I show up, all bright Leave your bitch like Then we slide, getting right on the ride |
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