Quezz Ruthless - Bacc to Bacc lyrics

[Intro] (Everything Mvjor) (Iceberg want a bag, b*tch) [Chorus: Quezz Ruthless & Big Scarr] Uh, yeah, I'm in LA smoking 'Woods of exotic opps Flew with the Glock on the plane, don't get mollywhopped Killers with me, no, we don't need a bodyguard Mm-mm, nope, no, I poured an eight of the Wock' in exotic pop Designer don, wear Forces with Gucci socks He was hating on the low, fu*ked around, got the ni**a dropped Uh, fu*ked around, got the ni**a dropped Shots at his head, ain't no need for him to call the doc Dissing the gang, that's the sh*t got your partner shot Got the drops from a b*tch, should've knew not to trust a thot Damn, but you should've knew that That's type of sh*t that'll get a ho blew back Call me Scarr Iron, might beat a ho blue-black Hellcat, it's fat, this b*tch come with some run flats [Verse: Quezz Ruthless & Big Scarr] Uh, yeah, snatch your pole off your hip, no, you can't get your gun back Grim Reaper Gang, fu*k around, get your soul snatched Youngins, they ready to step like a doormat Woah, but you should've knew that I heard he got shot and he ain't get to shoot back Prepared for the b*tch, yeah, we ready for comeback Freaky lil' b*tch eat me up like a fruit snack Uh, yeah, capping on what? Boy, you know you ain't do that Big Scarr hang out the scat with the Dracs shooting, who next? We no ID, y'all could tell just like, "Who that?" Uh, yeah, like, "Who this?" Spin a opp block, put that on my to-do list Still'll mask up and go slide, I don't do hits These ni**as rap capping, my gang really do this Uh, woah, these ni**as boys, you know that we grew to this Your b*tch in my phone and she sending me nudity AR shoot flames, this b*tch came with a cooling kit Stop claiming the body, you know you ain't do the sh*t Used to be broke, now I'm stupid rich Got on my sh*t, I ain't got time for the foolishness [Chorus: Quezz Ruthless & Big Scarr] Uh, yeah, I'm in LA smoking 'Woods of exotic opps Flew with the Glock on the plane, don't get mollywhopped Killers with me, no, we don't need a bodyguard Mm-mm, nope, no, I poured an eight of the Wock' in exotic pop Designer don, wear Forces with Gucci socks He was hating on the low, fu*ked around, got the ni**a dropped Uh, fu*ked around, got the ni**a dropped Shots at his head, ain't no need for him to call the doc Dissing the gang, that's the sh*t got your partner shot Got the drops from a b*tch, should've knew not to trust a thot Damn, but you should've knew that That's type of sh*t that'll get a ho blew back Call me Scarr Iron, might beat a ho blue-black Hellcat, it's fat, this b*tch come with some run flats