Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Back To Back, artist - D-Block Europe. Album song PTSD, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 26.09.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: D-Block Europe
Song language: English
Back To Back |
| 808 Pound |
| Fly, fly |
| I’m treatin' the trap like a Winnebago |
| And I’m feelin' like Huncho’s my alter ego |
| Nothin' but net when I’m at the free throw |
| Nothin' but facts when I’m on the beat |
| Rendezvous, I got stopped on the interstate |
| A pound of Biscotti, that’s personal |
| I guess some people just can’t relate |
| Information, I can’t correlate |
| Clowns on the net and they’re talkin' breeze |
| Quincy knows Huncho just bags in three’s |
| Used to hit up roulette, lost a couple G’s |
| Invested some money in couple gibs |
| All these racks coming big like a rack of ribs (Racks, hah) |
| There’s no common sense 'cause they lack a bit |
| My plug is Pierre then I’m Lacazette |
| Early morning, I sell fresh baguettes |
| I bought my mother some new baguettes |
| But she ain’t proud when I do the most |
| Let me raise up my glass, I’ma make a toast |
| Let me raise up my glass, I’ma make a speech |
| Let me tell you that money can marry you |
| The face on the note, yeah, it’s still a bitch |
| I sit down and think that I’m not content (Nah) |
| I get tempted and I flip a brick (Woo) |
| Can’t get drawn out, yeah, that’s what they wishin' for |
| Police focused, yeah, that’s what they wishin' for |
| Sittin' catching some last with my brudda, woah |
| Leave the studio, I got another one |
| I’m tryna make all, smoking all the dope |
| When I look at these baggies it give me hope |
| When I look at the studio, it give me hope, uh (Skeet, yeah) |
| My everyday car is a car that I used to rent |
| I know we rappin' right now but we used to be movie men (Skeet, skeet) |
| Heard there’s a brick or a crop in that yard so I’m moving it |
| Six racks on the wap, I just put it in Lucy’s bed |
| Yeah, baguetties, machetes, the Mac it will rain like confetti (Skeet, skeet) |
| Holding my dick on her pussy, she said she ain’t ready |
| Fucked a bad white girl, her name was Betty (Betty) |
| Hammer time, sawnoff or petty |
| Seven pound on petrol for a ride out |
| Four racks on a hat blow his mind out (Brrr) |
| Ha, mind out |
| Lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out |
| Off the top of the dome (Yeah, yeah) |
| OT for weeks, mum said, «When you coming home?» |
| Yeah a dog is loyal if you give the dog a bone |
| Took that bitch in the backseat, tinted car, gave her a bone |
| Yeah, I can make you moan |
| Fly you Paris or Rome |
| I don’t answer private call on my phone |
| So much stress in my dome |
| Tell them jakes leave me alone |
| Murder gang, no facade, not guilty, that’s gang shit (Brrr) |
| There ain’t a wap in the U.K. that you can get that we ain’t handled |
| In the AirBnB, no kitchen towel, wiping the side with a flannel |
| We get less time when the shotguns dismantle |
| I got the wrist on rose |
| So much ice round my nose, yeah |
| I put my bricks on the stove |
| I put my dick in her throat, yeah |
| I order my bricks on the phone |
| Wake up my nigga, he know (Yeah, yeah) |
| My nigga, we never admit |
| We never admit we involved (Uh) |
| Cup full of codeine, I just sip on this cup, let my problems fly |
| Spent thousands of nights in the bando, it play with my head and I wonder why |
| I’m just landin' in town |
| I be walkin' around, I be blendin' in Superdry |
| How you think I Chanaynay your feet |
| I was sellin' those things now I’m super fly |
| Girl, you fly, yeah |
| Wrist on ice, yeah, yeah |
| Girl, you fly, yeah |
| Let me know why, yeah, yeah |
| (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) |