Hopsin — I Might Be Wrong

[Chorus: Hopsin] These hoes go crazy, when they see me pull up (You know) Tryna strip my money But I can be wrong, I might be wrong (Yeah) Throw your dubs up for a Westcoast player The way we stuntin' on your hoes, it's just no fair What up bitch, keep the blunt lit, tell 'em we run this [Verse 1: Hopsin] I'm ruthless, but hit the club feeling so restless Reckless, y'all forgot to put me on the guest-list F this, I don't need the club, shit I'm cooling up Watch me pull the next dime piece I see pulling up (Ayy ho) Still raw when I rappin' on the mic Catch me actin' up mashin', prolly macking on your wife Gimme your nasty hoest dyke, who look gaggin' on the pipe But they tryna set me up, like my ass was Obie Trice (shit) A lotta hoes are known for game, shit they'll blow your brain ([?]) They have you give them cash, nice whips and the whole shebang (Bang) It's a sunny day, bitch, it ain't supposed to rain Now bend over like the hunchback and ultradian I'm an asshole as rascal We be pulling mad hoes, and fucking 'em 'til they back broke Then hit the studio and crack jokes Maybe smash flows, I spit the fire until the track smoke (Come on) [Chorus: Hopsin] These hoes go crazy, when they see me pull up (You know) Tryna strip my money But I can be wrong, I might be wrong (Yeah) Throw your dubs up for a Westcoast player The way we stuntin' on your hoes, it's just no fair What up bitch, keep the blunt lit, tell 'em we run this Check it out baby, this what I want you to do [Verse 2] [?] in the G-P-S navigation You're the location, I'm your destination Call the Crustaceans and a make a reservation The radio station, playing this dedication Back to back in rotation, live syndication Tonight this is celebration, no limitation No expectations, no indications Little conversations, smoke inhalation Slow installation, don't rush the situation We got all night (All night), I'ma do it right (Do it right) I'ma keep working at it, 'til I get it right I'ma buss it wide open if the suit tight [Chorus: Hopsin] These hoes go crazy, when they see me pull up (You know) Tryna strip my money But I can be wrong, I might be wrong (Yeah) Throw your dubs up for a Westcoast player The way we stuntin' on your hoes, it's just no fair What up bitch, keep the blunt lit, tell 'em we— (Good God, good God)