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Absolutly Correct (Only notes will be sent) Mostly Correct, yet.. The lyrics are wrong Very Wrong Not the lyrics to EVERYTHING I LOVE
You are about to report that the lyrics to EVERYTHING I LOVE By P. DIDDY (PUFF DADDY) From the album PRESS PLAY (2006) as Mostly Correct, yet..., If this is what you want to do, You may fix the lyric in the boxes (populated for you) You might want to leave a comment with that too (optional) then click the submit, All fields are optional.
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Lyric Body	(feat. Nas & Cee-Lo) [P. Diddy:] The world at my sneakers, Gold pieces moulded with Jesus features, Give streets the fever from the way I spit the Ether, Came on the scene at 19 a gritty fiend for, Money, power, respect, get it by any means uh, New Yorker, slick talker, walk like a brick flipper, Decimal doctor, multiply to get richer, I'm a entrepreneur, I'm the heart of the city, I'm a part of the sewers, I'm the honorable diddy, I taste the dirt in my sweat, that's from the Harlem struggle, All in my swagger that's the reason why I got my hustle, I got the highest stature, Miami diamond flasher, I got you caught in the most flyest and stylish rapture, My signature next to Christopher Wallace, get it honest, My first album through to him, that was my biggest project, Now I'm the illest known to walk like the illest soldier, And when I smoke, only roll up with the illest doja You sit and mull it over my venom a killer cobra, It's Harlem USA I diddy bop and shop with Oprah, (Yeah nigga, what.) [Chorus: Cee-lo] Nigga what, From my voice I'm killing �em, I shed my blood, About everything I love, [P. Diddy] To the eye blacker, over handed face the palm smacker, Good scrapper, cat stacker, good wood packer, Tear up the Dom P wrappers faster, Platinum patrone splasher, fuck cris, spit atcha, I call it rich ignorant laughter, Black American express card all grey now, its scratched up, From constant usage, girl kidnapper, pop tags off tags, Poppa making monster music, and still I Costra Nostra, Big roaster, skin cola, girl when I send for ya, Bring friends wontcha? I'm from the 80's NYC 5 percent of culture, Breeze through with that old school blue malaroma, Wrist glowing, ho-ing, fly off in a Boeing, Slide off with your ho, and spend six figures on her, My persona, Sean John unforgivable cologne, Copping the biggest diamonds makes me sorta bi-polar, Ferrari to Phantom, vehicles for high rollers, The studded chain around my neck makes the night colder, (Yeah nigga, what.) [Chorus: Cee-lo] Nigga what, From my voice I'm killing �em, I shed my blood, About everything I love, [Nas] The Queens Crypt keeper, Mets hat rocker, Pretty bitch slobber, Ex-robber, Heister, my own life biographer, Pants sagging, Bentley whipping, Summer jam stopper, Tim truck wearing, Pineapple rocker, then I spray choppers, A doctor in the jungles of Haiti made me, Draped in paisley bandanas, Suits with Adam Stacey, Cigar like Dick Tracy, Its dark I get spacey, Alcohol and laced weed, That was part of my 80's, The Cartier consigieres be near me, Canary yellow cuts in my pinky yearly, Liz Taylor tried to joke me Coz I keep it green like the other side of bill hicks be When he gets mean, Think fast before I blast hoes, Like Grassino, Went from scraggly old clothes to the illest fashion, And realest rappin', Pablo bath on the scene, won't go back to no green, Strictly paper cruising through the strip in Vegas, Two of New York's biggest niggaz, Y'all used to hate us, but now you love us, Nas and Diddy, power hustlers. (Yeah nigga, what.) [Chorus: Cee-lo] Nigga what, From my voice I'm killing �em, I shed my blood, About everything I love, (C'mon...) (On everythin' I love man...)
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