Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Back Again, artist - Tyler Thomas. Date of issue: 18.10.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Back Again |
| I’m always mobbing with the same muthafuckers |
| Same niggas I trusted |
| Same little bucket, least I ain’t gotta bus it |
| Paint job cool but the hub a little busted |
| And that thang old as fuck I think it came with a musket |
| Names you discussing, the real niggas disgusted |
| Bitter lil nigga you can catch me ear hustling |
| Flame in the fussin, peel brains like they onions |
| Hoes claim that they deep as the Hudson |
| Then tell me something, bitch I thought so |
| You can hold this dick but not no convo |
| Reaching in my pocket got me thicker than a poncho |
| Crack from my tonsils til I’m the head honcho |
| How the fuck you finna be fly without the launch code |
| Got a dream bigger than my ego span |
| Niggas thought that I was crazier than CeeLo jam |
| Posted up talking shit about some G4 plans |
| A nigga couldn’t pay the bill on his G4 plan |
| I’m a high ass nigga with some high ass thoughts |
| Eating high fat food with my high ass broad |
| Blow an eighth with my niggas that my high ass brought |
| And drive slow hoping I don’t get my high ass caught |
| So what’s the dealy though, nappy fade chin like a billy goat |
| Hungry and I’m faded my niggas asking a dinner quote |
| You know the little bucket like a beamer when I’m in it though |
| I’m riding dirty, tags been expired for a minute though |
| Fuck it with my finger out the window looking ratchet |
| With a couple of the homies that I tend to act an ass with |
| Usually I’m not the type of nigga that behaving |
| Like I’m missing home training but tonight I’m looking basic |
| Whores in contortion the way I be switching faces |
| It’s amazing how the liquor turn a angel into Satan |
| Now we making moves, just to make do seems like the only time we pray to Jesus, |
| when the bills due |
| Back again, weed spilling on my lap again |
| Drinking Kool-Aid from tap again |
| Back again, Feds looking at my cap again |
| Black again |
| Back again, weed spilling on my lap again |
| Drinking Kool-Aid from tap again |
| Back again, Feds looking at my cap again |
| Black again |
| Just a funky little nigga puffing reefer |
| Smoke inside your hoodie, had you looking like the reaper |
| Kicking it like FIFA to a Mona Lisa |
| You like to boogie to the rhythm of your own speakers |
| Thrown heater with a low Caesar |
| How you doing? It’s nice to meet ya |
| My cousin coming home with more stripes than four zebras |
| I have a blunt rolled on top of some new sneakers |
| A bottle of some liquor just so you can wet your beak up |
| That’s all I can afford though |
| We bigger now, wish I has the dough to get you |
| Like Money Mitch when you getting out |
| Got 'em now, rather we have 'em |
| When ya ends low, you found out that family has you |
| When the wind blow, you find out the family gathers |
| And when ya wins low, you find out that family matters |
| But for real, Uncle V miss you, we been goin fishing |
| Drinking, trying to help him fill the void but he miss his baby boy |