Back To Back

Original

I'm treating the trap like a Winnebago and I'm feeling like Sancho's my alter ego.

Nothing but net when I'm at the free throw.

Nothing but facts when I'm on the beat. Rendezvous, I got stopped at 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 talking breeze. PC knows Sancho just bags in threes.

Used to hit up who then lost a couple Gs. Invested some money, a couple Gs.

All these racks coming big like a rack of ribs.

There's no common sense 'cause they lack a bit. My plug is Pierre then I'm Lacazette.

Early morning, have some 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't marry you.

The face on a note, yeah, it's still a bitch. I sit down to think then I'm not content.

I get tempted and I flip a brick. I get drawn out, yeah, that's what they wishing for.

Can't lose focus, yeah, that's what they wishing for.

Sitting, catching some L's with my brother, whoa. Leave the studio, I got another whoa.

I try numb it 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.

-Yeah, my everyday car is a car that I used to rent. I know we rapping right now, but we used to be movie men.

Yeah, heard there's a brick or a crop in that yard, so I'm moving in. Yeah, six racks on a wap,

I just put it in Lucy's bag.

Yeah, baguettes, machetes, the MAC, it'll ring like confetti.

Holding my dick on her pussy, she said she ain't ready.

Fucked a bad white girl, her name is Bailey.

Hammer time, sauna, four PM. Seven pound on petrol for ride out.

Four racks on a wap, always ride out.

Ride out.

Lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out. Off the top of the dome.

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.

There ain't a wap in the UK that you can get that we ain't handled.

In the Airbnb, no kitchen towel, wiping the site with a flannel. You get less time when the shotgun's this flannel.

I got the wrist on road, 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.

My nigga, we never admit, we never admit we involved.

Cup full of codeine, I just sip on this cup, make my problems fly.

Spent thousands of nights in the bando, it play with my head and I wonder why.

I'm just learning the town, I be walking around, I be blending in super dry. How you feel, Shanayna?

You feel I was selling those things, I'm super fly. Girl, you fly, yeah. Wrist on ice, yeah, yeah.

Girl, you fly, yeah. Let me know why, yeah, yeah.