Papoose, Rick Ross and Jaquae - Back On My Bullshit

Any nigga, any nigga been throwin' shade or hatin' in the last three years, fuck 'em
Yeah, we shittin' on you right now
We ain't givin' no passes, yeah, you pussy
Bang, ha, bang
Niggas still got the same car from my Trilla album, what?

This summer, I'm only ridin' in convertibles, son
I'm signed to MMG, money, murder and guns
Rick Ross was official, I knew him a long time
'Cause he took off his shades just so he can look in my eye
Back with the remix, heard you back in the precinct
Quit yappin', you ain't packin' a mean grip
Automatic with 3 clips
You rap with no reason
Stacked with some mean chips
I spent a rack on a clean whip
I get it back with a key flip
Get some grams bagged and we seran wrap 'em, my man, you don't have to believe it
Married the queen chick
She be keepin' her king lit
I be grabbin' her cleavage
Clappin' up leaches
When they ratchet, unleashes
I blast from the pieces
That's when I'm reachin'
Leave you paraplegic
We're done, I make speed ships
'Bout it, 'bout it, Master P but you get defeated with the mafia like the three-six
The kingpin have an actual reason to stop you maggots from breathin'
No casa fire, how it's pacifier, fire arms, fire chromes when you rappers exceeded
Trappin' and eatin', got 'em back on the defence, I be havin' 'em speechless
Fire flashin', got 'em aggy, feelin' shots but I gotta see it

This time I ain't playing fair
I'mma take what's mine
I want more money, more pot, goddamn
Nigga, it's about that time
I'm back on my bullshit
I'm back on my bullshit
I said I'm back on my bullshit
I'm back on my bullshit, hey

Met Pap in '96, fresh off the bus
Residue in my raps from holdin' dust
I didn't wanna, case I made her touch her toes
We touchin' money but really, who touch the most?
We on the corner with my slugs poppin' wheelies
We never run 'cause we know who run the city
She on the train just to let us run the train
Who do the body, I'mma give that boy a chain
Hustler, I got it tatted on my neck
20 deal Presidents tatted across my chest
Pro tools, now they say that boy the best
Tell us what yous know 'cause you don't get no respect
I pass it to Papoose out on a fast break
Her pussy can never be better than what's in my ashtray
Bang, biggest
Her pussy can never be better than what's in my ashtray

This time I ain't playing fair
I'mma take what's mine
I want more money, more part, goddamn
Nigga, it's about that time
I'm back on my bullshit
I'm back on my bullshit
I said I'm back on my bullshit
I'm back on my bullshit, hey

Ayo, Pap, remember when we met at the five deadly venoms photoshoot?
Like yo, ain't no five deadly venoms, nigga
We the future of the rap game
Future of the culture
We the biggest
We shook hands then, homie
Seen it in your eyes then, nigga, let's go

Written by:
JAMES HARRIS, RICK ROSS, TYRONE DOUGLAS, WILLIE MACKIE

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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