Lyrics:
bitch wanna' new booty now
Guns like call of duty rounds
I got the weed in the back yeah
I'm finna' call up the slatts yeah
Posted up where that boy
Playin with the pot huh
Playin with the pot huh
Aye
I can’t help it baby girl
Do this sh*t with ease
Took a trip and I came
Back with the P’s
by the CIA or the industry
Know where black hands be on black Glocks
No back stabs or sad plots, we let them rot
1-800-Nas&Hit, don't call us with
Independent now, won't double back
I'm reppin' BMG, yeah, I'm the Big Money Getter
Fuck the pop shit, remember Logic as a spitter
Just a kid having fun when
How many times you look in the mirror and stare at yaself, what do you see
How many thoughts do you try to block, 'cause they get so dark, what did
and DJ's know how to pound beats
Like kids with flat feet and crap beats walking down backstreets
So much work went into this to line the notes of fact
they wanna get paid
Everybody late and Ima just gone play
And bitches be trippin cause they don't wanna
Ever stay down with a nigga, when a niggas
playing new york undercover
Everybody pose tough til you blow they cover
Then you realize they was kids hiding under covers
The jungle isn't made to keep
Went to my garage
Practiced with my Fender
I got a brand new punk song I wanna play with my best friends
Then an awful noise
Comes from the porch
Yo welcome to tape 2 everybody
I'm so blessed to be back with y'all, man
Shoutout Stew, Stew the glue obviously
Putting this, putting this thing
i’m not even
Gonna get into that
But worse than that, the kid E
Back to my man E e
Is with Queensbridge he’s from
The Bridge he’s with Nas and
Them
at a different place of living cause everybody been strange
Can't go back on my block, every time I go I feel drained
I don't trust you but I love you, I'll do
now that I'm back, on the block
I'm ready to rock
Left to right, all night
My game's tight, I wish you might
Take a bite
Out of this here
like a warden
Rap without Finesse is like the NBA without Jordan
So all ya new jacks kickin' wack raps
It's a fact that I'll be on your fuckin' back
plus they jerkin my space
Shouted cause they chase when I strut out
Sift through my block I'm c-cool
She's my mood to brace
Stole my mind back black
So
chose
Still I'm livin' it by street codes
Pain and poverty put these flows in Beast Mode
Here we go
The road to my success from here was not a block
Started paying the rent by slangin'
Phat ass coca rocks
Now shes 23 her four kids all alone
And loc'ed out
And plus shes all smoked out, the base face
You
and Domo, we're two talented kids
Bitch, I'm back like my jump on Jimmy Fallon's ribs
Think I give a fuck? Axes get to hackin' at dicks
Then toss salads
that I fell I came back on my feet
AOTP drop now I'm back wit the heat
This game's no love
The murder rates and by luck
Money got snuffed for an old
yeah
Smilin' like a motherfucker countin' the green
You can't fuck with the kid
My boy started thinkin' back on the train
bout all that shit we
think you got the stacks?
You stuck being in jacks on the blocks with your paps
And the squad to hard niggas gotta fall back
Damn papi, you're shit is
Black car on a backstreet, little me asleep on the back seat
Lulled by street lamps and the blackness in between
My parents' argument picking up
Oh yeah, I got the perfect song for the kids to sing
And all my people that's
Drug dealin' just to get by
Stackin' money 'til it get sky high
remember, being kids on the block
Pennies and my nickels, soon turned to a knot
I went from playing tag, to me running from the cops
Went from Tunker Toys,
Discuss these everybody backstreets back by new kids on the block Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In