Wombats - Backfire At The Disco (Album Version) lyrics
rate me(feat. Pusha T, Pharrell)<br />
<br />
[Chorus: Pharrell Williams]<br />
All you little G's please, I carry the ghostmaker<br />
You just a rapper, a yipper, a yapper<br />
When shit get tight you let them boys wire tap ya<br />
Don't wake up with two eyes and two barrels pointing at ya<br />
I keeps the ghostmakers, uh! muhfuckers!<br />
<br />
[Verse 1: Boobonic]<br />
I'm from 6-0, N-e-s-t, OG, A all day<br />
We're the coke fiends, don't fringe<br />
Try to leave, and them bullets gon to spray your way<br />
That barbershop talk'll leave a nigga laid<br />
Cause I cuts on em, straight off the top, no fade<br />
You hating niggaz put the S in Shade<br />
While I picture baby mams in that Escalade<br />
And give em the lean, you acting out your best scene<br />
From the flicks that you grew up watching as a teen<br />
Meanwhile on the block we gets cream<br />
Seen more than most niggaz will ever by sixteen<br />
Tap the work from Pharrell to getting all the fame<br />
40 cal in my Billionaire Boys Club jeans<br />
Back the fuck up chump, you ain't gon spray<br />
The last nigga woulda been 24 today<br />
<br />
[Chorus]<br />
<br />
[Verse 2: Pusha T]<br />
Pusha's in a foreign land wit Señorita<br />
White sand beaches with teal two seaters<br />
Niggaz wanna hate like they under white sheet-as<br />
But I'll really put their ass under white sheet-ah<br />
40 calibers delete ya! naptime!<br />
That nine turn that same wave line to flat line<br />
For just the calmest, bitches the fondest<br />
Canary color stones, diamonds look like they sick wit the jaundice<br />
Carefully match my neck like arm is<br />
Flash yellow trying to warn kids<br />
Hammers they could talk least I'll touch the Don kids<br />
We are three kings, y'all niggaz pay homage<br />
EGHCK!! - ghetto Sam Cook<br />
Souls Terror push, my connect look like Pele look<br />
Uh! change my style wit ease, niggaz thieves<br />
Kiss life goodbye now choke on this Desert Ease<br />
<br />
[Chorus]<br />
<br />
[Verse 3: Mr. Man]<br />
Listen up, this is it homes<br />
The ghostmaker in my palm, that I grip on<br />
Shine chrome, wanna live, get ya sprint on<br />
Man it's best you run, like ol' G, Bobby Johnson son<br />
You get ya back treated gangsta<br />
Since a young buck, I had it sewn up<br />
But now I'm grown up, so you can hate that<br />
Or you can roll out, dope - I make that<br />
Used to take that, but show sold out<br />
Wollen Ave. is the place, where we hang out<br />
Shots rang out, pull that thing out<br />
You better bang back, or put you laid back<br />
Cause you ain't wit that, I make you fall flat<br />
Ain't no comin back, how you figure that<br />
Nigga see ya squad, won't support that, snort that<br />
Cause it's raw facts, I'm hooked up wit cats<br />
That will spit the Mac, outta Cadillac, shit like mmmm...<br />
<br />
[Chorus]
