Correction Lyrics Built to Win Born to Lose by The Big Hash

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Lyrics

Yeah
Mans shut down when he heard my tings
Yeah
Touchdown first place
Yeah, yeah
Told shorty I'm about to bug her off in the worst way
Yeah
Touchdown first place
Yeah, yeah
Told shorty I'm about to bug her off in the worst way

Yeah
I ain't surprised we made the news
I wouldn't be surprised if they told me that I'm the reason they eating of Pay-Per-Views
Pardon me if I'm rude
I wouldn't be surprised if she told me "I only know of his music because of you"
He bit the hand that fed him, he used to a silver spoon
I used to go to bed without having no dinner food
I'm waking up to breakfast at Tashas in the flamingo room
Eating shrimp like the flamingos do
Yeah, built to win, born to lose
With that said, I don't really think I'm good at doing what a n***a is born to do
Guess I got a point to prove
Married to the music
Instead of jumping the broom, I'm jumping into the booth
All summer, f**k a honeymoon
Fall, winter and autumn too, n***a no autotune
n***as want smoke, I don't see 'em through the f**kin' fumes
We don't show it when we got it, boy that's a beginner's move, uh

Yeah, touchdown first place
Yeah, yeah
Told shorty I'm about to bug her off in the worst way
Yeah, yeah

Yeah, Young Biggie
Lets go!
Young n***a winning
Is he rapping or singing?
On that wake and bake sh*t
Smell like backwoods in my linen
I seen plenty women, running wide to catch feelings
Only hang with stars around me, you'd think my head spinning
For like 24/7, 365
The next leap year I'm around, I cop a coupe with frog eyes
Will I ever go to heaven? I'll find out when I die
But I believe in the God who died for me by getting crucified uh
Did you ever think I'd get this big n***a!
Young Biggie, Big Headed, Big Hash, BIG
Big problems, I could pull them out the bag
Became a rapper, finally got my big break that's Kit Kat
Young had the streets poppin' like gang violence
I went from high school to high profilers
Sports deal bagging, autotune, cool new rapping,  new faces old antics
Darker days and even brighter diamonds
Calm down, pause we ain't on the same level
Different tax bracket, Kelsey Grammer new bezel
Dropped out to hop in the Merc, the class still in assemble
So much class, this sh*t a classic instrumental
Rap n***as begging me to spit it two times eight, produced by 8
So they could put it on they mixtapes
I handle business on my own, got the coon case
Second hand smoke, If a n***a get involved

Yeah

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