Young Chop - Backseat lyrics

[Hook: Gucci Mane] Man I'm riding round 1 deep, yup, yup , yup, yup With that choppa on the back seat Ball, ball, ball, ball And I ain't worry bout you f** n***as, squad, hahaha squad! Man I ain't worry bout you f** n***as, you know! Bow, bow, bow, bow I said I'm riding round 1 deep, you know With that choppa on the back seat, you know! yeah! So I ain't worry bout you f** n***as, nah yeah! So I ain't worry bout you f** n***as, Nah Bow, bow [Verse 1: Gucci Mane] I got a AR-15 on the back of the seat Knock your head out clean to the back of the Jeep And since I'm Gucci baby giving me the 3rd degree b**h I ain't nothing these rappers serve more Junies than me So much today's hottest stars ain't got more money than me They told me Gucci step up your bars I told 'em step up this CHEESE! I'm bout to really go sheae just like drew breeze my n** And everytime I do a feature, 50 pounds of meat Me and flocka twin choppas, we pop bottles and lick I see your contract my n***a, that ain't no money to live Got me f**ed up, down to sleep and under the bridge I'm eating good, f** food, 60 bricks in the fridge, it's Gucci!!! [Hook: Gucci Mane] [Verse 2: Waka Flocka Flame] One deep in the gold just weed and a choppa Make your frame came you that's the power of the dollar Your n***as wild, but my n***as wilder Got an army of k**ers, no coing power Extendos in my handguns, 100 rounds spent now 1 Shooting best friends and loved ones We shooting n***a, no feel ones Point a n***a out, we fill one Can't walk a mile in my air ones Hunned goons, I wish one Put 50 bands in your grand son Send a picture back with a ransom I need a million dollars shawty and some I'm the wrong n***a to put hands on Down industry we hands on I'm from clayton county, riverdale Black ski mask, no clientelle This Jurrasic Park, welcome to hell You seen the threats we ring the bells Front door, service, make 100 goons feel like no help 2 possy Glocks till the barrel melt Make your son feel the same pain I felt, ba*tard! [Hook: Gucci Mane] [Verse 3: Chief Keef] Got green like churanchulas You don't want my cancer bra I smoke you but I don't know you bra Bout to get your benzes up I'm manning up, banding up Dummy don't get damaged up I done did all kind of stuff Selling dope, robbing stuff Tek under my seat Wish a f** n***a try me Room full of k**ers move by me And they move in silence Getting head from a b**h that's Chinese Couple k**ers behind me All my n***as grimey And you know where to find me, b**h I'm [Hook: Gucci Mane]