Back To Back (Feat. M Huncho) – D-block Europe – letras

I’m treatin’ the trap like a WinnebagoAnd I’m feelin’ like Huncho’s my alter egoNothin but neck when I’m at a free throwNothin’ but facts when I’m on the beatRendezvous, I got stopped on the interstateA pound of Biscotti, that’s personalI guess some people just can’t relateInformation, I can’t correlateClowns on the net and they’re talkin’ breezeQuincy knows Huncho just bags and freezesUsed to hit up [?] , lost a couple G’sInvested some money in couple gibsAll these racks coming big like a rack of ribsThere’s no common sense ’cause they lack a bitMy plug is [?] and I’m LacazetteEarly morning, I sell fresh baguettesI bought my mother some new baguettesBut she ain’t proud when I do the mostLet me raise up my glass, I’ma make a toastLet me raise up my glass, I’ma make a speechLet me tell you that money can marry youThe face on the note, yeah, it’s still a bitchI sit down and think that I’m not contentI get tempted and I flip a brickCan’t get drawn out, yeah, that’s what they wishin’ forPolice focused, yeah, that’s what they wishin’ forSittin’ catching [?]Leave the studio, I got another oneI’m tryna make all smoking all the dopeWhen I look at these baggies it give me hopeWhen I look at the studio, it give me hope, uhMy everyday car is a car that I used to rentI know we rappin’ right now but we used to be movie menHeard there’s a brick or a crop in that yard so I’m moving itSix racks on the wap, I just put it in Lucy’s bagYeah, baguetties, machetes, the MAC it will ring like confettiHolding my dick on her pussy, she said she ain’t readyFucked a bad white girl, her name was Betty (Betty)Hammer time, saunaSeven pound on petrol for [?]Four racks on [?] (Brr)Mind outLights out, lights out, lights out, lights outOff the top of the dome (Yeah, yeah)OT for weeks, mum said « When you coming home? « Yeah a dog is loyal if you give a dog a boneTook that bitch in the backseat, tinted car, gave her a boneYeah, I can make you moanFly you Paris or RomeI don’t answer private call on my phoneSo much stress in my domeTell them jakes leave me aloneMurder gang, no facade, not guilty, that’s gang (Brr)There ain’t a wap in the U. K. that you can get that we ain’t handledIn the AirBnB, no kickin’ [?] , wiping the side with a flannelWe get less time when the shotguns dismantleI got the wrist on roseSo much ice round my nose, yeahI put my bricks on the stoveI put my dick in her throat, yeahI order my bricks on the phoneWake up my nigga, he know (Yeah, yeah)My nigga, we never admitWe never admit we involved (Uh)Cup full of codeine, I just sip on this cup, let my problems flySpent thousands of nights in the bando, it play with my head and I wonder whyI’m just landin’ [?]I be walkin’ around, I be blendin’ in SuperdryHow you think I Chanaynay your feetI was sellin’ them things now I’m super flyGirl, you fly, yeahWrist on ice, yeah, yeahGirl, you fly, yeahLet me know why, yeah, yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)