Take 'Em Back - Termanology

Yeah

Let me take 'em back

The lawyer fees, the 40 thieves, the barber quotes

The cop cars, the blue light kaleidoscopes

The baby mama beats, the fucking and telling jokes

Them hollow tip bullets ripping up your Timberland coat

That gutta shit, that hanging with all my cousins shit

That fuck a bitch, I’m finna fuck all her cousins shit

The mushrooms, the acid tabs, the dirt bags

The Philly blunts, the bail money, the yellow cabs

The holding cell, the metal cuffs, the wack feeling

The drunk nights, the gun fights, the hurt feelings

The kidnappings, the paperwork, the silent screams

The fistfights, 2X shirts, and baggy jeans

The target on your back when you walking out the house

The quarter p, the quarter key, the quarter ounce

The drug money, the drug use, the drug habit

The dirty cab, the dirty bitch, the dirty ratchet

Soon as you up it’s like they want you to be down

Can’t stand to see you doing good

It’s like they want you to go back

We can go all the way back

The stickups, the stash house, the robberies

The dime box, the metal Glocks outside of P’s

Them street wars, them freak whores, the enemies

That beef got real deep over the jealousy

Anticipating them cowards hating-- it’s all saying

The narcs raving, twenty cops in a dark basement

My heart racing every time I’m making a play

I saw an agent and swerved and went the other way

The stolen cars, the weed jars, the ER

The bitches smuggling dope in from DR

The 45s, the coke lines, the old times

Back when there was no sign that we would blow, slime

The .44, the .22, the .25, the .380, the .38, the .39

The whole night we breaking down like seven pounds

Gotta bag it up into oz just to move it around

100% facts

978 legends

They know us

But we can go back

The traphouse with Fuze, Gutta, and Cousin Lou

Jay Pusha, Flex, Occhi, and Star, too

Paranoid out the window, the gun under the pillow

The shotguns that mask everybody on skittles

The white widow, orange crush and purple haze

Yak for piff, black fifths, and rainy days

Twenty people in the crib, that’s just how we live

No towers of soap to take a shower with

Them wild freaks that beef up in them foul streets

Man we ain’t have nothing to eat, we on the prowl deep

The running packs, the almost catching a heart attack

When they dropped a gun on my lap, nothing funny about that

The ice grills, the white pills, the night thrills

My life trill, you stressing over the light bill

I’m certified, most rappers you know they sure to lie

But I put this shit on my kids, homie: I earned the shine

Ain’t no moving backwards, man

We only moving forward

Straight to that bed