Back in School Lyrics – YSR Gramz
Singer: YSR Gramz
Title: Back in School
Gettin’ rap money and trap money, I can’t stop trappin’
I can’t wait ’til the summertime to catch my favorite opp lackin’
Catch a n#gg# at a green light and stop traffic
You be givin’ freak hoes your money, n#gg#s livin’ backwards
Before I had a bank, I hid it in my mattress
Seventeen hundred for a f#ckin’ jacket
I wasn’t born in Chiraq, but I ain’t never lackin’
You was broke all year until you got your taxes
Huh
Ever been blowed, scammin’ on the phone and forgot your accent?
The beef all fun and games ’til they drop your casket
Lil’ cuddy slimy, he’ll ask like, “Let me rock your glasses”
Don’t get your buffs snatched
Back in school, you was cryin’ for your lunch back
Back in school, you got beat up and ain’t punch back
Shе been a ho since a baby, that’s a Rugrat
Made ’em throw thе towel in, was lookin’ like a bloodbath
I’m in Beecher, out here boolin’, where the bloods at?
Got the 40 in the club, this b#tch compact
I went to school with a K in my backpack
Bro said they like that Scat Pack, they finna carjack it
I was trappin’ in the f#ckin’ wintertime, I had a Carhartt hat
Two clips taped to the gun like a Poptart pack
I got a ten-milli’ for you big n#gg#s just like Shaq
She gon’ let me f#ck on her for free, you gotta buy her cat
I ain’t sip no drank in like a week
Got the monkey on my bag, but the shrooms on my head
Keep it on me while I’m sleep, got the tool on my bed
Freaky-ass wh#re left a pool of drool on my legs
Metal on me, cyborg
Stone Island windbreaker, call me Rhyhorn
Never said I love you, so it ain’t no need to cry, wh#re
You a roleplayer, sit back and watch the guys score
The trap goin’ hard, got ’em beatin’ down my side door
Lil’-ass n#gg# can’t f#ck with me, he wear a size four
A n#gg# put my name in a song, I’ma slide for it
I’m tryna hit the road and do scams, who tryna drive for us?
Made him run from the Drac’, n#gg#s just like Forrest
You gotta hold that b#tch steady ’cause it jump like Jordan
n#gg# mentioned Gabe name and got his life shortened
I be on b#llsh#t, I’ll fly this n#gg# b#tch to Florida
Then make her drive to Georgia
With a map and a backpack just like she Dora
Better not let the cops check it or it’s chop suey
Jefe b#llsh#ttin’, pourin’ Wocky in a Trop Smoothie
Out of seven games, I bet we win four
Fall off, bounce back, it ain’t sh#t to get more
Wouldn’t chase a b#tch unless she was the mail lady
Vernors x the Quagen, finna do my ginger ale crazy
ShittyBoyz, Dog sh#t Militia
Long live scams
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Lyrics YSR Gramz – Back in School
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