Tyler Thomas – Back Again Lyrics

[Verse 1: Tyler Thomas]

I’m always mobbin’ with he 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 discussin’, the real niggas disgusted
Bitter lil nigga you can catch me ear hustlin’
Flame in the fussin, peel rains like they onions
Hoes claim that the deep as the Hudson
Then tell me something, Bitch I though so
You can hold this dick but not no convo
Reachin’ 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 launch code
Got a dream bigger than my ego span
Niggas’ thought that I was crazier than a cee-lo jam
Posted up talking’ shit about some G4 plans
A nigga could’t pay the bill on his G4 plan
I’m a high ass nigga with some high ass thoughts
Eatin high fat food with my high ass broad
Blow an eighth with my niggas that my high ass brought
And drive slow hopin’ i don’t get my high ass caught
So whats the dealy tho, nappy fade chin like a billy goat
Hungry and I’m faded my niggas askin’ a dinner quote
You know the little bucket like a beamer when I’m in it though
I’m ridin’ dirty, tags been expired for a minute though
Fuck it with my finger out the window lookin’ ratchet
With a couple of the homies that i tend to act an ass with
Usually I’m not the type of nigga that behavin’
Like I’m missin’ home trainin’
But Tonight I’m lookin’ basic
Whores in contortion the way I be switchin’ faces
It’s amazing how da liquor turn a angel into satan
Now we makin’ moves, Just to make do seems like the only time we pray to Jesus, when the bills due

[Chorus: Tyler Thomas]
Back again, Weed spillin’ on my lap again
Drinkin’ Kool-Aid from tap again
Back Again, Feds lookin’ at my cap again
Black again
Back again, Weed spillin’ on my lap again
Drinkin’ Kool-Aid from tap again
Back Again, Feds lookin’ at my cap again
Black again

[Verse 2: Tyler Thomas]
Just a funky little nigga puffin’ reefer
Smoke inside your hoodie had you lookin’ like the Reaper
Kickin’ 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 doin’ it’s nice to meet ya
My cousin comin 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 gettin’ 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 fishin’
Drinkin’ tryin’ to help him fill the void but he miss his baby boy

[Chorus: Tyler Thomas]
Back again, Weed spillin’ on my lap again
Drinkin’ Kool-Aid from tap again
Back Again, Feds lookin’ at my cap again
Black again
Back again, Weed spillin’ on my lap again
Drinkin’ Kool-Aid from tap again
Back Again, Feds lookin’ at my cap again
Black again

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