Ain't Goin Back Lyrics

I put this wood in the air, I'm trying to get higher than Ja Morant

Fuck a amg, told Rossy I'm trying to push the cat

If I see the lights I'm hitting gas I ain't going back

Pressure pack, watch me roll it up while she throw it back

Fritters in this wood bout a 7 I'm trying to stuff it

It's poles in this coupe, where the stash, I'm trying to stuff them

I can't really talk about them sticks cause I done bust them

But I can really talk about that road cause I been done it

Shawty got them cakes, I'm trying to bake her like some muffins

Put that coochie in the air, arch that back I'm trying to stuff it

Told little baby she can blow dick but bitch we not fucking

Put a switch on this blower, now it's blowing like a trumpet

Bandhuntas for the win they got us playing in the functions

It's Miles Bridges how I slam beats and score a easy bucket

Little baby got me aggravated she keep making up assumptions

I stepped back from half court they got me feeling like fuck it

This BH ain't bounty hunters, but its longlive luckett

Like pipe it down just a couple notches cause baby we ain't fussing

How the fuck you shooting and we ain't never seen you tussle

That's dummy shit

Niggas straight hams and I can't fuck with them

Just take a sip

Sike this purple juice I just poed a fifth

Thoroughbred soldier it's no discussion when I'm upping it

Said all I want in life is money, and Lauren London bitch

I promise when them bullets hit the car me and Dre ain't even flinch

I hit the gas, he popped stash and now we trying to up our blicks

I'm heaven sent, I'm on a mission I swear I'm really gods kid

Youngest from the trenches I had dreams of being big

And if we talking alley oops, I really threw a lot of them

These niggas wave hopping, they couldn't ride it then went to politic

These seven sixty-twos knocking houses, its ding dong ditch

I said your bitch nickname Lilo, cause baby keep it stitch

And fuck a handout, ain't you see how Rico did Mitch?

And I'm a ball like Lou Williams even if I play the bench nigga

They got me mad I'm out here trying to talk my shit

I'm trying to make my mama proud

Remember Fallas clothes and Marshall's drip

Now it's rolling loud

I can really make that money flip

I just need a pound

I'm bagging eighths up out the zip

I popped that boy and left town

But now I'm popping out in Ksubi jeans, McQueens for my feet

A fitted hat from your hood and I got bands on me

And you ain't getting shit free

Okay this morton in my cup I poured up and dozed to sleep

Drop the top and bump this shit all through this nice summer breeze