BACK AT IT ft. JUJUDASLEEZE, GHOSTFACEBOYZ & Scarss Lyrics

Royale, stop playing with these niggas

Said we active, uh

Said we, uh

Said we, said we, uh

Uh, check it, uh

Uh, said we active

Ghostface, boy, step out, then we get to clapping

You keep talking all that shit, so pussy, stop with all that acting

Yeah, you claim me, you got rekt, so I don't see it, so what happened

I don't want smoke, pussy, boy, that's what you saying

Said this 42 hit up, you do a settling, so she spraying

So you talking about the game, we put them poles up where you laying

Yeah, I'm getting rich, I'll take your bitch, she on her knees, she praying

Ain't no crash, she a little classy, but I ain't new

Dummy, get a lil' past me, try and strike me, get your little buddy

Talking all crazy, me and gang will have to take your money

I ain't with the games, so stop the laughing, bro, that shit not funny

Said you stepping too hard, you better pipe down

Like I said about my acting, mood is finna touch us down

I get a lil' freaky bitch and tell her after the turnaround

I walk up to the crib to tell bro to put them switches down

Told bro to put them switches down, but he don't give a fuck

Catch her eye, hit him in his chest, and then we sparked him up

We don't really do that rap, cat bro, that's not what's up

Yeah, he CNN and he ain't got no rec, he not with us

Yeah, we really take his pull, cause my lil' bro, yeah, he bout it

I don't care about the act, you know my oud is getting violent

Pussy, you keep fucking chatting, need a chain, go grab a body

I keep telling y'all that I don't play them games, I'll tap your pockets

Yeah, we really tap your pockets, all it takes a lil' rocket

All we really need to do is hit his brains and then we drop them

Bitches hit me up for profit, oh, you really gotta watch it

You and bro come out the crib to watch us really fucking drop them

My pop was banging shit in an 80's hit band, damn

Glock sending to a black ho like Ray Sanchez

Y'all ain't got no poles or no racks, your whole camp sad

Didn't fire but hit his leg, make him fold, now he can't sag

Get the drop boys, bro, we got so many lows

Bro shot through 30, couldn't made it to the pros

Bro a pistol with his pistol, he could shoot like Dan Rose

Get that drop nigga, crime shoot, we on the road

Bro a whole lot of punching niggas out like Mordex

Wipe the drink across his dick and hit him like Carmex

In the backseat with a blick, we having car sex

This Glock a dumbbell, work hard to get hard packs

Bro caught 250, he just keep splurging

Life fucked me as a kid, I never was a virgin

I'ma get me for my sins, but if he play, I'm ripping through his turban

His bitch so wet, she made my face feel like a shower curtain

Roast in the air, uh, uh

What's in the air, that's that pack

How many shooters gon' die if they lack

T.O.D. get it big, nigga, we the rack