Lunar C - Back To Back lyrics

[Hook: Demrick] n***as got a lot to say, I'm ok with that Just stay out my way, we don't play with that (No, no, no) I came from around the way, I got away with that So roll me another, we gone smoke them things back to back, back to back [Verse 1: Demrick] I been smoking for a week, man I'm loaded I've been noted, I've been quoted as the coldest n***a flowing Never slowing down for nothing, f** it, got to keep it going We on stage for the night, got a flight in the morning Like damn, got to thank god for a new day I used to clean my Vans up with toothpaste Now I got fans and my plans in a suitcase sh** I been in Japan drinking 40s with a couple bad shorties Asked em do you want to orgy and that's real sh** Imma let you deal with it for me Jet fuel fly, let the raw papers burn up Ain't concerned much, I'm all about the turn up Thinking back on the blocks where I served up People talking like there's places that I can't come back to I can say that's natural, they gone get at you When you doing what they can't do [Hook] [Verse 2: Emilio Rojas] Contemplating my next move Cause when they want what you got they don't respect you And they show it every time their mouths are open That they hoping that we throw in the towel, but now we soaking in sun rays Washington Heights, the whole city riding Now we the sh** to them same hoes that sh**ted on us Sipping so much champagne we got liver problems All these women rushing the stage like they was little mama Venezuelan kid from the upper I learned how to be a man from the strength of my mother My team a family, we giving thanks to each other She give me good p**y, I'm a bad motherf**er On my second pa**port, and it's half full I'm in a hotel gym doing back rolls I ain't lost my drive at all, I hit the back roads And now I'm back at these cats' throats, brrrt [Hook] [Verse 3: Lunar C] All my moneys off the books, no one's taxing that sh** The only check I ever signed were titties in Europe Talk off and you might see why you rappers ain't like me Swinging but none of your punches are landing that Tai Chi I write rhymes, burn weed, then f** mouths I count the money while your girl keeps the look out The tour's into the third week I'm run down But I'll be going hard till my work visa runs out A bit hyperactive when I don't smoke I flip at motherf**ers random like freestyle gymnastics I like my la**es thick like mola**es Yeah, dumb fat b**hes is what I find attractive Got this beat from Hoppa, smoking swishers in the Gold Coast You was at home on your sofa eating cold toast Almost made it, probably won't make it back As long as I get paid off this sh**, I'm okay with that [Hook]