Lil Barz - The Return

Straight from the bottom the top all I could see
If I ran up on the pussy wouldn't shoot me, nah, would he?
Years ago, fightin' for my freedom front of a jury
Now these pussy bitches snitching fillin' me with that fury
Weed relieves the pain, smokin' dank out that woody
Cookin' up in that lab, like my last name was Curie
One year in the game, but nah, I ain't no rookie
Always rockin' a hoodie, like my name is A Boogie
Sellin' weed before school, I would always play hooky
My homie Khloe makin' bank and always smokin' that cookie
Don't run up in these streets, yeah, shit could get messy
Question if I'm fuckin' totin', nah, bitch don't test me
If I don't answer my phone, hoe, you better not text me
I thank God for all this fuckin' money, yeah, he blessed me
The death of my grandma, yeah, that shit fuckin' depressed me
But her heart and her soul, that will always be next me
Homie, catch a body if you wanna impress me
Dumb bitch cheated on me, yeah she coulda just left me
In these streets homie, I feel like everybody against me
Yo' baby mama in the crib and she tryna caress me
You can talk shit but bitch you'll never forget me
Yo' ass better know I'll fuckin' shoot you if you act out
Punch that pussy in his fuckin' face and he blacked out
Freestyle in this bitch, but nah, it ain't Pass Out
Bank can't handle all my fuckin' money, yeah, it's maxed out
Smart with my motherfuckin' bread like I'm Jack Trout
Foot up on his fuckin' neck and that bitch gasped out
Bitch, I keep some condoms and a mag in my glovebox
Cuz' you never know when this bitch gonna need cocked
Don't go back and forth on the 'Gram, you gon' be blocked
Pussy bitch try to play with me gon' get his ass shot
Pussy, see that laser comin' at you? That's a red dot
Flames comin' out the fuckin' booth, yeah that's red hot
AK on my shoulder, Ima hit you with a headshot
I was sellin' by the pound, prayin' I ain't get caught
Leave his body holy like that pussy name was Ted Scott
Pussy thought he was a killer, well I guess not
Leave his body there bitch, we gon' let his flesh rot
These the fuckin' rules of war like the fuckin' Pequot
Put some rounds in his fuckin' body, leave him shell shocked
Bitch, I am a sharp shooter like my name was Bret Hart
Married to the money, yeah I met that shit in wedlock
Crashed the Phantom, but I ain't take that bitch to the repair shop
Killed his ass, then I made his baby mama bed rock
He was talkin' shit so I took off that bitches dread locks

Written by:
Bryan Russell

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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