5, Deuce, 4, Tre – Backbone – letras

In background of hook: {Hey, hey, hey, hey}[Hook]I’m still buckin’ like five, deuce, four, treShawt, shawty (somebody better tell ’em)I’m still buckin’ like five, deuce, four, tre (I’m Mr. Fat Face)I come through swervin’ (somebody better tell ’em)I’m still buckin’ like five, deuce, four, treShawt, shawty (somebody better tell ’em)I’m still buckin’ like five, deuce, four, tre (I’m Mr. Fat Face)I come through swervin’ (somebody better tell ’em)[Verse 1]I’m border, grit on that killerThey call it Front Street, know about it niggaHe work the concretes ’til break daylightYou see him post up in the cut, how many?I ain’t servin’ nothin’ but pure productsI swerk that walk, qoute that slang, choke that thangI’m talkin’ ’bout « I ain’t dressin' », nothin’ but painKeep the Cheverolet funked outI ain’t fuckin’ witcha girl ‘less y’all trunked outI come through, tear that ass upWhippin’ new grain and he all glassed upYou see us swervin’ on some seventeen-ninesMr. F.F., I’ma stay bright everytime[Hook][Verse 2]Talk a dollar outta dime, drinkin’ liq wit limePull out sideways and leave these suckas from the lineOver time, like ten ’til, see ’em grin with the grillSuperclean see a gleam through the windsheildIt’s everyday like the clock tickHit me with some super thick up in the cockpitIt’s off limits baby, you see the handstiched materialWorkin’ the original interialUp in a coma, get he and Bean up out the trunkI step on stage and get the whole place crunkAlways garuntee freind-shh y’allYou shoulda rocked the microphone to this, y’allYes sir, hold on, hold the diceSet these down, then I’m goneOne more shot cause I’m on tonightI shook another fifty-twoNow tell me what do they wants to do?[Hook][Verse 3]I supply these motherf**kers with the right dosageNow hear, bust it open, get it smokin’, that’s himSack it up and watch it jump out the gymShorty told you what it is when you come through hereThis sucker emcee say he lookin’ for meTell him, ain’t nothin’ nigga, is you the policeWhen I put the mic down they say they found residueAnd the laws wanna charge me for verbal abuseBlow smoke up out the roof, cause they ain’t got no proofSix-eights, skate Decatur, they ass through, I’m sayin’Go getcha ass bread, ya undertsandMan these niggas think I’m playin'(Man they boy for real)[Hook]{*scratching*}Five, deuce, four, treShawt, shawty(repeat to fade)