Ace Hood - Gutta Back lyrics

[Hook:] They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back [Verse 1:] Broward County boss, yeah I said that Fresh up out that Porsche, like where that work at? Tell my mama that I got us, never turning back b**h I run my city, I'm just doing laps Whole hood hating, say a n***a changed Right around that time, the real money came Oh well, different city, hotels Plenty paper b**hes pulling on my coat tails You're the bad economy, they're dropping your sales sh** ain't what it used to be, shout out to fish scale Shout out them real Zo's, shout out my bad hoes One for you broke b**hes, better get your grind on Word on the street they're praying on my down fall You n***as b**hes, reason why I stay from round y'all Smell the money from a mile, like a hound dog Balling every year, they just call me John Wall [Hook] [Verse 2:] Broward County boss, yeah I said that In case you forgot, I brought that line back In case you forgot, I put that on the map Ready for war, [?] raps Still strapped with that hammer, bad b**h from Atlanta Still talking that sh**, I'm young Tony Montana What you mad for, cause I came up Still real and ain't changed up Came through in that Range truck Diamonds shining like what the f** You still talking that dumb sh**, talking bout what you gonna do Talking about when you gonna blow, n***a man I'm twenty-four I done been there what you trying to do, been places you trying to go Compared fools to them great views and them [?] holes that I ran through I was seventeen when I first signed, same day that my city rise Six figures, no compromise Only n***a who televised f** the n***as who selling lies f** them hoes who was never round Finna' got for that nine to five Keep the roll and my window down [Hook] [Verse 3:] I say now b**h get on to my level ho Eighty grand for my Rollie' though f**ed the b**h and that p**y soaked Finna' work but you finna' choke f** the fool with those funny loaf f** you talking bout before Send a shot through your front door Signed, sealed no envelope I said hood n***a from the twenty ho Deuce, deuce when that Chevy roll Real n***a come flick up, acting tough cause you clicked up My youngest be on some f** sh**, bang bang's and that b**h clicked Seven chains where my neck be, with a thick b**h in the back seat I say f** us all with that p**y, twenty K for my bookie Fifty round in my chopper, Jumping out of that bucket Say real n***a getting money, my top down when it's sunny From [?] to them big M's, we still local I take trips, gone [Hook]