Lyrics Take 'Em Back - Termanology

Take 'Em Back

Yeah
Let me take 'em back
The lawyer fees, the 40 thieves, the barber quotes
The cop cars, the blue light kaleidoscopes
The baby mama beats, the fucking and telling jokes
Them hollow tip bullets ripping up your Timberland coat
That gutta shit, that hanging with all my cousins shit
That fuck a bitch, I’m finna fuck all her cousins shit
The mushrooms, the acid tabs, the dirt bags
The Philly blunts, the bail money, the yellow cabs
The holding cell, the metal cuffs, the wack feeling
The drunk nights, the gun fights, the hurt feelings
The kidnappings, the paperwork, the silent screams
The fistfights, 2X shirts, and baggy jeans
The target on your back when you walking out the house
The quarter p, the quarter key, the quarter ounce
The drug money, the drug use, the drug habit
The dirty cab, the dirty bitch, the dirty ratchet
Soon as you up it’s like they want you to be down
Can’t stand to see you doing good
It’s like they want you to go back
We can go all the way back
The stickups, the stash house, the robberies
The dime box, the metal Glocks outside of P’s
Them street wars, them freak whores, the enemies
That beef got real deep over the jealousy
Anticipating them cowards hating-- it’s all saying
The narcs raving, twenty cops in a dark basement
My heart racing every time I’m making a play
I saw an agent and swerved and went the other way
The stolen cars, the weed jars, the ER
The bitches smuggling dope in from DR
The 45s, the coke lines, the old times
Back when there was no sign that we would blow, slime
The .44, the .22, the .25, the .380, the .38, the .39
The whole night we breaking down like seven pounds
Gotta bag it up into oz just to move it around
100% facts
978 legends
They know us
But we can go back
The traphouse with Fuze, Gutta, and Cousin Lou
Jay Pusha, Flex, Occhi, and Star, too
Paranoid out the window, the gun under the pillow
The shotguns that mask everybody on skittles
The white widow, orange crush and purple haze
Yak for piff, black fifths, and rainy days
Twenty people in the crib, that’s just how we live
No towers of soap to take a shower with
Them wild freaks that beef up in them foul streets
Man we ain’t have nothing to eat, we on the prowl deep
The running packs, the almost catching a heart attack
When they dropped a gun on my lap, nothing funny about that
The ice grills, the white pills, the night thrills
My life trill, you stressing over the light bill
I’m certified, most rappers you know they sure to lie
But I put this shit on my kids, homie: I earned the shine
Ain’t no moving backwards, man
We only moving forward
Straight to that bed