Letras Back Again - Tyler Thomas

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