| Back on my shit, Back on my shit |
| Slap a nigga silly |
| Back on my shit, Back on my shit |
| Slap a nigga silly and robbing motherfuckers when I catch em in my city |
| Maurice is the nigga you used to run from |
| Maurice is the nigga you used to run from |
| Maurice is the nigga you used to run from |
| Now I hear you dumb dumbs out here talking my shit |
| Like you talk with a lisp |
| It don’t sound right coming off of your lips |
| Cause my nigga you a bitch |
| Heard you got a little gun now |
| And you got a small circle that you run now |
| Well let me give your tough ass here the run down |
| I will spill your brains into this motherfucking V.I.P |
| Cause you a bitch and you always will be |
| You posers kill me |
| Talking that gangsta shit |
| And You ain’t never got real in your life |
| Ain’t never made the blood spill in your life |
| You got a couple shaky stories only you can back up |
| Hit the hood homes and see the record I racked up |
| Maurcio Rivera, no middle initial, ch-check the sheriffs website I had issues |
| Black heart homes, no tears, no tissues |
| I wouldn’t give a fuck who, out there miss you |
| This song here ain’t designed to diss you |
| It’s a warning shot, to get back in your place |
| Before I get back on my shit, Slap a nigga silly |
| And robbin motherfuckers when I catch em in my city |
| Cause I don’t give a fuck about the pen |
| And I could care less about death that don’t stop my breathe |
| I breathe through the city lights |
| My soul permeate the air of the city nights |
| I’m a god, and you a façade telling fake shit to the people |
| Talking out yo ass like you my motherfucking equal |
| And that’s gone get you killed, Yes my nigga it is that real |
| So unless you can swallow that deal |
| You bet I’ll have your ass right back on that Hollywood shit you bitch |
| Bet I’ll have your ass right back on that Hollywood shit you bitch |
| Bet I’ll have your ass right back on that Hollywood shit you bitch |