Lyrics Back 2 The Shit - JT The Bigga Figga

Back 2 The Shit

The G-L-P is throwing shots to you niggas domes
Cocking Glocks, pulling macs when the funk is on
Pack your chrome motherfucker when you leave home
When you fucking with them niggas from the danger zone
Well back on the track is the nigga D-Moeja
Sipping on the Grand Mar' and puffing on the doja
And everybody know the D dash Moe can have you hittin'
Cause shit that I be spittin' is fittin' tighter than a mitten
Written in a book by a crook I was locked up
And did so much dirt that I should have been boxed up
Gone with the wind but I’m still in the house
Giving game from my brain to my motherfucking mouth
I gives a fuck I’m sick as fuck I’m from the Y-B-G
Now D dash Moe is just a factor in the S-F-C
Ninety-three, Get Low be going federal
Top notch, motherfucker on a pedestal
I’m coming tight don’t try to perp and say a nigga not
Because these bullets that me got in me gun is hot
Now piggidy-pop, piggidy-pop, piggidy-pop pop
Seventeen rounds out a nickel-plated Glock
I gets my currency, my capital, my cash flow
I mean my mail, my scratch do you feel me though?
So don’t be stressin' it’s a lesson from tha Youngsta
A playa and a hustla, and can’t fuck with you bustas
Trust a bitch?
Never would, never could, gotta stack
Got a mac, keep a hoe on her back, pack a nine
On the grind, every time, coming sick
G-L-P in the house getting back to the shit
Well G-L-P is throwing shots to you niggas domes
Creepin' through the cuts, flippin' em up when the funk is on
Mr. Illiac on the track quite exceptional professional mack
When I’m 'bout to check a fat stack
From the editor, currency a four to five creditor
Docked in the back on the gank like the predator
Utilize and finalize my mission, chewin' niggas up
When it comes to competition, now they wishin'
That we slip to the flip to the beat to the bone
Niggas was here but now they gone
The Get Low P is in the house
Poppin' it on the microphone
My nigga Herm hooked it up for us niggas
The Young Baby Boy, D-Moe and the Figga
Just a few young niggas from The Moe-town
When we pop the shit, nigga cause we throw down
Now my nigga San Quinn is about to flow
So let me pass the mic and tell them niggas about them hoes
You silly hoes and niggas better peep this game
While this game is worth my peepin'
Creepin' through the Sucka Free
I’m knockin' fools out, leavin' 'em sleepin'
Cause it’s a daily operation for us to wreck thangs
I’m whippin' and flippin', slidin' and slippin' through Frisco, the hoes swang
From the nutsack, you ready to buck I’m ready to buck back
I’m down for the funk up on the streets or all up in the fuckin' rap
I’ll tiggity-tag your ass fast with this nine millimeter
Scared to follow the leader, so with the slug I gotta leave ya
The Get Low rep from The Moe to The Point
Smoke a blunt and a joint, The Young Baby Boy’s the right choice
When I voice my opinion you better recognize
Cause it’s your own fuckin' life you might jeopardize
Commitin' crimes I’m droppin' rhymes and hittin' the fuckin' dank and
I’m fuckin' your bitch and checkin' my grips and sippin' on the drank and
I’m gankin', and gafflin' and jumpin' off the fuckin' top flo'
I’ll bust a spin and a grin and Quinn will Get Low
Nineteen ninety-three, the G-L-P
Mackin stackin' and always stackin'
Ready to flip a track and check a fat stack nigga
Coming from the west side of the Presidio
JT the Bigga Figga, San Quinn and D-Moe
Three young niggas
Three young Gs
Poppin' that shit with ease, mayne
And we outta here fasho-ly, ya know me?
Ha ha
Three young niggas from the Get Low
Cause we poppin' that shit outta Frisco
I say three young niggas from the Get Low
From the Get Low, from the Get Low
Cause we poppin' that shit on a daily basis
From the Get Low town cause they tryin' to take this
Game from the gamer, but they cain’t
Cause that’s how the shit go mayne
Three young niggas from the Get Low
Cause we poppin' that shit outta Frisco
I say three young niggas from the Get Low
From the Get Low, from the Get Low