Keneddythedon Better Come Correct (feat. Hayley's Party)
[Hook x2 – KeneddyTheDon]
Come out to play
Won't you come out today?
I know you cannot resist, come seal your fate
Do whatever you want, I won't stop you
Your lifeline is yours to lose
[Verse 1 – KeneddyTheDon]
I spit heat seeking missles
So if I'm speaking, I won't miss you
If I diss you, I meant to
Don't you dare try to evade it
If you run, that's the bitch in you considering not to f..ck with me
I suggest you listen to her
Now peep the record
Disrespect it, you get checked with a Tec
Don't Russian Roulette my willingness to leave you without a spec
Untouched
Although I must commit to buss on anybody who don't come correct
I disinfect the arena full of irrelevance with my intention to drain the swamp
But, some are hesistant
Because what I produce is intellectual
So automatically it's detrimental
Trade ammunition for pencils
I find myself distraught by eternal damnation
Like, am I destined for Hell? Might as well consider decapitation
I contemplated on the state of hip hop and wondered if it was brought back to life by amputation or mutilation
I see you bleedin'
I see you feedin'
I see you, Demon
I see you fienin' for scenes where brethren clash between
Not no simple outbursts, it's some fighting schemes
Warfare outdoors, avalanche
Then comes the uproar
I know the beef is bubblin'
I know some streets where you cannot sleep
You got one eye open
Under the sheets, the heat is tucked in
You hope he lucks out
You shoot some rounds
See the cloud evaporate
Poof! He shoots, and you duck down
Looking for rounds
Looking for anything that would stop him
Knock him off his balance and drop him
Pistol cockin'
Pop (*gunshot*)
The bullet stuck to his noggin frame
Fragments scatter throughout the brain
But on your brain, Lucifer's entertained
He pats you on your back as he relays the message, “As a matter of fact, kill his family
Let them feel the full effect of when a nigga wanna cross me
Come correct.”
[Hook]
[Verse 2 – Hayley's Party]
I won't stop you with all the shit you're talkin'
Yeah
You'll lose your life with all the shit you're talkin'
Yeah
So, better come correct, or you'll get checked
Yeah
The pocket rocket hit a nigga chest
Yeah
F..cking with me, nigga, that's suicide
So, if you move, my niggas runnin' back and forth, that's suicides
That's squad shit to my squad, bitch
And what these lyrics based on? This Smith & Wesson
So, hope you learn your lesson
With this dead shot for his head top, his head pop
That's half off to a crop top
I crop top, drop top when I'm flexin'
The Rollie game from heaven
Yeah, nigga, that's a blessing - these angel diamonds on my angel diamonds
The money tickin', so you know I'm counting
You know a nigga timing
My bitch is savage, yeah she got the damage
She'll pull the strecher that you stretchin', nigga
So, you better come correct, or we might check you, nigga
*Cymbal clash dies out, reverses then ends with gunshot*