Get Back
Traphouse Mob
Yoz, what you tellin' me? (Yeah)
What you tellin' me? Yeah
I got Snacks to the right of me
I got Mikey to the left of me, huh, wait
Woo
Look, look
Ayy, what up?
Hold on, what they talkin' 'bout? Hey, what them folks talkin' 'bout?
Huh, look, huh
Buddy gon' grrt that, grrt that, brrt that, brrt that
Send shots, make 'em get back
All that chit-chat, chit-chat, riff-raff, riff-raff
My n- ain't into that
N- be talkin' hot, but he ain't on sh- (woo)
I got like 50 rounds up in this clip
If I go to jail, n-, I'll plead the Fifth (uh?)
'Cause mommy still gon' love her kid
N- tryna lock me up and give me a bid, huh?
I'm like n-, f- the pigs
The judge like, "Why you actin' like a d-?"
I said, "I'm movin' like I'm Steven Vic"
My lawyer like, "Papi, why you brazen?"
I said, "I pop a P- and feel amazin'"
I shoot for the stars, I'm a foundation, huh
Look at the money I'm raisin'
She wanna f-, hold on
She snuck in the book, have her wait for arraignment
She get d- and edible arrangements
That's the only form of payment
Shawty a snack
And after I snack, I'ma blow out her back
She like, "Papi, you so crazy," huh
I told her, "Whine on me, baby" (woah)
She want a star
She wanna f- 'cause she know who we are
These h- be dirty, ain't hittin' 'em raw
When it come to h-, I got b- galore (grrt)
She wanna grip that, lick that, ask where the stick at
Freak b- put my d- where her lips at (woo)
She goin' all gas, no chit-chit (ayy)
She goin' all gas, no chit-chit
Ayy, bah-bah-ba-bum (bum)
Here come that boy with the drum (woo)
If I pull it out, then that boy gonna run (brrt, brrt)
If he want the smoke, knock the beef out his bun, ayy
I go dumb, dumb, dumb (go dumb)
Air it out, leave him slump-slump-slumped (baow)
F- what they say, they know that I'm gucci
Pull up with a pump-pump-pump (pop, pop, pop)
Yoz, what you tellin' me? (Yeah)
What you tellin' me? Yeah
I got Snacks to the right of me
I got Mikey to the left of me, huh, wait
Woo
Look, look
Ayy, what up?
Hold on, what they talkin' 'bout? Hey, what them folks talkin' 'bout?
Huh, look, huh
Buddy gon' grrt that, grrt that, brrt that, brrt that
Send shots, make 'em get back
All that chit-chat, chit-chat, riff-raff, riff-raff
My n- ain't into that
N- be talkin' hot, but he ain't on sh- (woo)
I got like 50 rounds up in this clip
If I go to jail, n-, I'll plead the Fifth (uh?)
'Cause mommy still gon' love her kid
N- tryna lock me up and give me a bid, huh?
I'm like n-, f- the pigs
The judge like, "Why you actin' like a d-?"
I said, "I'm movin' like I'm Steven Vic"
My lawyer like, "Papi, why you brazen?"
I said, "I pop a P- and feel amazin'"
I shoot for the stars, I'm a foundation, huh
Look at the money I'm raisin'
She wanna f-, hold on
She snuck in the book, have her wait for arraignment
She get d- and edible arrangements
That's the only form of payment
Shawty a snack
And after I snack, I'ma blow out her back
She like, "Papi, you so crazy," huh
I told her, "Whine on me, baby" (woah)
She want a star
She wanna f- 'cause she know who we are
These h- be dirty, ain't hittin' 'em raw
When it come to h-, I got b- galore (grrt)
She wanna grip that, lick that, ask where the stick at
Freak b- put my d- where her lips at (woo)
She goin' all gas, no chit-chit (ayy)
She goin' all gas, no chit-chit
Ayy, bah-bah-ba-bum (bum)
Here come that boy with the drum (woo)
If I pull it out, then that boy gonna run (brrt, brrt)
If he want the smoke, knock the beef out his bun, ayy
I go dumb, dumb, dumb (go dumb)
Air it out, leave him slump-slump-slumped (baow)
F- what they say, they know that I'm gucci
Pull up with a pump-pump-pump (pop, pop, pop)
Credits
Writer(s): Derrick Carrington Gray, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Yosief Tafari
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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