EvilGiane, Surf Gang bitch!
And the bitch come back when the bands come back
And the bitch come back when them bands come back
And them niggas so mad cause they can't get back
And I can’t trust niggas gotta watch my back
And that boy so broke but he tryna get back
And I ride through the bity yea, tryna get back
Yeah imma sleaze in the back of the back
In the back of the bank yea finna click clack
For a pint of the tris, yea I'm finna tax tax
And I do sip wock but that shit really trash
You rockin' with Evolving Public, on gang
In the back of the back yea I’m counting up racks
And she fucking everybody like that bitch Katt Stacks
I was way too young, I ain't sippin no Ac
Wide receiver, I be tossing the pack
You cross me, then I ain't lookin back
Don't hold a grudge but I can't let go
We slide on his foreign give him bullet holes
My shooter got afro like they from the holes
I'm counting up money waiting for the hoes
I'm sippin on drank she like let it go
I really put drank over hoes
My diamonds they water like a fuckin hose
You ain't talking money nigga then it’s adios
And she shakin that ass, watch it overload
Got 25K, walkin with a load
I’m waiting for smoke like a game loading
I'm all about green like a fuckin toad
See word around town nigga, that you told
I don’t got a fever but these diamonds cold
They know my story, nigga, cause you told em
Smokin' on pressure
Smokin on pressure
Back to back foreigns just packing a jet
If I need me a perc I call up Moh Baretta
And the bitch come back when the bands come back
And the bitch come back when them bands come back
And them niggas so mad cause they can't get back
And I can't trust niggas gotta watch my back
And that boy so broke but he tryna get back
And I ride through the bity yea, tryna get back
Yeah imma sleaze in the back of the back
In the back of the bank yea finna click clack
For a pint of the tris, yea I’m finna tax tax
And I do sip wock but that shit really trash
In the back of the back yea I'm counting up racks
And she fucking everybody like that bitch Katt Stacks
I was way too young, I ain't sippin no Ac
Wide receiver, I be tossing the pack
You cross me, then I ain't lookin back
Don't hold a grudge but I can't let go
We slide on his foreign give him bullet holes
My shooter got afro like they from the holes
I'm counting up money waiting for the hoes
I'm sippin on drank she like let it go
I really put drank over hoes
My diamonds they water like a fuckin hose
You ain't talking money nigga then it's adios
And she shakin that ass, watch it overload
Got 25K, walkin with a load
I'm waiting for smoke like a game loading
I'm all about green like a fuckin toad
See word around town nigga, that you told
I don't got a fever but these diamonds cold
They know my story, nigga, cause you told em
Smokin' on pressure
Smokin on pressure
Back to back foreigns just packing a jet
If I need me a perc I call up Moh Baretta
