Song parody of
Back home
by AK-74
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Hello
I'm back in the 208, so what up
It's what it is, I'm fucking a bitch
She's really got mad tricks when we're rolling in the sheets
Never done 'till sun, that's what it is
Chicks bat shit, she got some real problems
Big fat tits, a masterpiece walking
This that shit, you blast the beat often
This that kid, perhaps a wiz talking
Back kicking in the 406, so what up
It's what it is, I'm higher than shit
I'm a little out of it, I'm impaired
I'm aware that it shows, let it go
We them kids, we got some real problems
Big fat hits, we smoke that shit often
Twist that spliff, and pass that shit puffing
This gat spits, who wants a clip of it
Busy kicking it, my fellas chilling
We sipping the liquor, killing the liver
Swift real ridiculously quick
And a steady cash flow, check I got it
Rubber band stacks stretch, busting out my wallet
Want a Benz blacked out, mobbing past opponents
Yo these bastards frontin'
Dog I'm strapped, who want it
Like I said last measure, it'd be my pleasure to pull it
Homie tempt me, I'm hoping
Molotovs we throwing on it
Back home in the 631, all this shit we done
Just to get where we come, we spit a little bit like our idols
A style I'm starting to do it newishly
I groove with it smoothishly, I'm rocking a doozy
Musically a dude who's wits truly extraordinary
Computability with lyrics ingenious, probably got me a Grammy
Cuss so much so watch my mouth slur it
This raps sick, who wants to step to it
My mind one of the greatest, I ain't too worried to make it
Said I "made it" back in '08 when I skated
Bust an ollie, psyched out
Kids be chasing fame, it's fucking crazy, like wow
Most insane that's in the game, I'm fucking taking mics
Down, my Jack and Coke it's the weekend
Drink that homie down the whole liter
Pass that smoke, we rolling up swishers
Play some oldies, blaze some yo
Big up
Hello
I'm back in the 208, so what up
It's what it is, I'm fucking a bitch
She's really got mad tricks when we're rolling in the sheets
Never done 'till sun, that's what it is
Chicks bat shit, she got some real problems
Big fat tits, a masterpiece walking
This that shit, you blast the beat often
This that kid, perhaps a wiz talking
Back kicking in the 406, so what up
It's what it is, I'm higher than shit
I'm a little out of it, I'm impaired
I'm aware that it shows, let it go
We them kids, we got some real problems
Big fat hits, we smoke that shit often
Twist that spliff, and pass that shit puffing
This gat spits, who wants a clip of it
Busy kicking it, my fellas chilling
We sipping the liquor, killing the liver
Swift real ridiculously quick
And a steady cash flow, check I got it
Rubber band stacks stretch, busting out my wallet
Want a Benz blacked out, mobbing past opponents
Yo these bastards frontin'
Dog I'm strapped, who want it
Like I said last measure, it'd be my pleasure to pull it
Homie tempt me, I'm hoping
Molotovs we throwing on it
Back home in the 631, all this shit we done
Just to get where we come, we spit a little bit like our idols
A style I'm starting to do it newishly
I groove with it smoothishly, I'm rocking a doozy
Musically a dude who's wits truly extraordinary
Computability with lyrics ingenious, probably got me a Grammy
Cuss so much so watch my mouth slur it
This raps sick, who wants to step to it
My mind one of the greatest, I ain't too worried to make it
Said I "made it" back in '08 when I skated
Bust an ollie, psyched out
Kids be chasing fame, it's fucking crazy, like wow
Most insane that's in the game, I'm fucking taking mics
Down, my Jack and Coke it's the weekend
Drink that homie down the whole liter
Pass that smoke, we rolling up swishers
Play some oldies, blaze some yo
Big up
