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Absolutly Correct (Only notes will be sent) Mostly Correct, yet... The lyrics are wrong Very Wrong Not the lyrics to FIX YO FACE
Severity is 3
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Lyric Body	[E.S.G.] Now niggaz hate this, I make 'em freeze up like the Matrix When they see the bravas kit, on the grey six Double O, two triple O I'ma wreck Just turned 26, the youngest rap game vet Platinum chain on my neck, baguettes Rolexes Been in niggaz tape decks, since the Oilers left Texas Drive my wide body reckless, competition left dead Mirror free silence issue boys, which gets bread fed Clarion behind my head, he'll be in like Jed I ain't scared to hit that I-10, make me some bread FED's wanna take my big heads, have you heard of that Put my raps over track, they call it verbal crack Lyrical attack on a 8-dat, placks and pieces Mind moving thesis, teloconesis Crucified like Jesus, I'ma smile at them tricks Frowned up, like the smell of piles of shit [Hook] So fix your face motherfucker, get that boot out your mouth Fuck with a nigga out the South, get your ass knocked out And on the West coast, it's still D-R-E But in this Dirty 3rd, it's D-Reck and E.S.G. So fix your face motherfucker, get that boot out your mouth Fuck with a nigga out the South, get your ass knocked out And on the East coast, it's Nas and Jay-Z But in this Dirty 3rd nigga, it's D-Reck and E.S.G. [D-Reck] Bow down now, or you can bow down later Dedication plus patience, made the game greater Niggaz hate, to see big paper unfold We balling out of control, young niggaz realizing the goals Where were you, when the dope was sold Dope was grow, I got it from Jesus was from the Dario A nigga was moving, in bushels and barrels Distributing all points, from hundred pounds to dime sales Now me and E, are tight like TNT Ready to ignite, and blow the industry We represent, these Southside streets These Southside beats, and like the whether bring Southside heat He ain't 2Pac, and I ain't Suge We ain't Puff and Big, we grip grain and work wood Down South riders, money and power we fighters The city's under siege, there'll be no survivors [Hook] [E.S.G.] A Dirty 3rd Southsider, Wreckshop rider Turning heads blue or red, my silver look lighter Nigga fuck an appetizer, we the main course Got Double XL mad, you saw our name in the Source Nigga Queens to Cali, Wreckshop gon reign Once these major labels, hear our god damn names Trigga aim when I swang, I hog the lane Like a dog off the chain, jaws locked on this game Two dopeheaded caine, with a trunk full of bang No tints just vents, watch the Sprint phone ring There's a lick of cocaine, that's a out of town thang Keeping frowning at my click, I'ma hit you with this thang Nigga must be insane, trying to hate on my firm Y'all niggaz had your chance, it's Wreckshop turn Watch a hot glock burn, when I make that bitch hiccup Nappy nut niggaz, fix your fucking lip up [Hook - 2x]
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