Back Again - Tyler Thomas

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