Lyrics to Right Back
Hi, my name is Ryan
I'm in this bitch for my nigga Wifisfuneral
And the kid before trunks
I scream low rate death in the skies
3 xanax gon' put it to the test
I kill a motherfucker blank dead in the eye
Demons coming out in the evening, greaming
I can't lie man, I wish I was dead right now
Pusi
I'd bury myself in the motherfucking grave right now
What's the play right now?
Young dead pimp coming alive from the motherfucking grave right now
Ay, dubs in my body can't move
You walk around like a human pharmaceutical
I ain't new to this, ain't new to you
I'm postin' guap bitch how 'bout you
Got bands on bands, I can throw to the roof
Got drugs on drugs and your bitch getting loose
Got drinks, got purp, got sticks, what it do?
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Got six pints of the tech
Spent ten bands on my wrist too
Spent 800 right on these shoes
Ear game, wrist game, what it do?
Know if any bitch swallow my babies
New Glock, 40 go crazy
But fuck that, now I got paper
The lean move slow like the matrix
New Glock, 40 go crazy
But fuck that, now I got paper
The lean move slow like the matrix
New Glock, 40 go crazy
But fuck that, now I got paper
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Two tecs to your motherfucking chest
High class weed, smokin' stank like a motherfucking pest
My cup dirtier than the L.A river
Diamonds on me is gon' make you shiver
Sippin on act you can check my liver
My chain is so swolled and it look like glitter
Choked out, smoked out, what you crying about?
Lyin' down in your feelings now you're crying now
I heard a [?] bitch that you talking now
I feel no empathy as we gon' kill your rave, bitch
Eight ounce, eight ounce
Four ounce, break it down
Eight ounce
Four ounce, five ounce, break it down
One pound, two pound, smoke it down, break it down
One ounce, eight ounce, three ounce, break it down
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
I'm in this bitch for my nigga Wifisfuneral
And the kid before trunks
I scream low rate death in the skies
3 xanax gon' put it to the test
I kill a motherfucker blank dead in the eye
Demons coming out in the evening, greaming
I can't lie man, I wish I was dead right now
Pusi
I'd bury myself in the motherfucking grave right now
What's the play right now?
Young dead pimp coming alive from the motherfucking grave right now
Ay, dubs in my body can't move
You walk around like a human pharmaceutical
I ain't new to this, ain't new to you
I'm postin' guap bitch how 'bout you
Got bands on bands, I can throw to the roof
Got drugs on drugs and your bitch getting loose
Got drinks, got purp, got sticks, what it do?
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Got six pints of the tech
Spent ten bands on my wrist too
Spent 800 right on these shoes
Ear game, wrist game, what it do?
Know if any bitch swallow my babies
New Glock, 40 go crazy
But fuck that, now I got paper
The lean move slow like the matrix
New Glock, 40 go crazy
But fuck that, now I got paper
The lean move slow like the matrix
New Glock, 40 go crazy
But fuck that, now I got paper
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Two tecs to your motherfucking chest
High class weed, smokin' stank like a motherfucking pest
My cup dirtier than the L.A river
Diamonds on me is gon' make you shiver
Sippin on act you can check my liver
My chain is so swolled and it look like glitter
Choked out, smoked out, what you crying about?
Lyin' down in your feelings now you're crying now
I heard a [?] bitch that you talking now
I feel no empathy as we gon' kill your rave, bitch
Eight ounce, eight ounce
Four ounce, break it down
Eight ounce
Four ounce, five ounce, break it down
One pound, two pound, smoke it down, break it down
One ounce, eight ounce, three ounce, break it down
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Bussin' right back on the pack
Name another nigga with the sack
Songwriters: Isaiah Rivera
Publisher: Lyrics © THE ADMINISTRATION MP, INC.
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Publisher: Lyrics © THE ADMINISTRATION MP, INC.
Powered by LyricFind