S.L.A.B. - Back At It Again lyrics

(Trae) Back at it again, and I feel like I'm in my prime f** rhymes, I'ma wreck this motherf**er for Dinkie doing time Slow Loud And Bangin' for life, n***az know it's understood How the f** n***az think they down, and they ain't even from the hood Too many n***az in my section, so I had to make a change Plus n***az be disrespecting, so I had to take my aim It ain't no friends inside this game, n***az switching like the drop of a dolla So catch the f** you out my window, as I flip my Impala Dogging the road, plus even on mo' got n***az in shame And they can't touch me in the '84 Range, I'm raw and untamed See Trae is self explanatory, and my attitude show it On the way to f** up they career, nine times out of ten n***az know it So gon get ready for the crown, to be announced to my team If you don't think we hard, then watch this Nina Ross with this beam We back at it, automatic static for you n***az who hating Who say they really wanna do me, bring it on cause I'm waiting (Hook: Billy Cook) They telling me, that we ain't gon make it this time They telling me, that S.L.A.B. don't hustle and grind We back again, to prove you n***az wrong this time Mistakes have been made, n***az know that you crossed that line (Jay'Ton) Before you hate up on the S.L.A.B., get your weight up b**h So move around b**h n***a, 'fore I empty my slip I'm a young guerilla in these streets, trying to make me a profit Six figgas ain't enough, cause I done had that sh** in my pocket A n***a G'd up, Boss chunking them C's up Jay'Ton up in this b**h, with the T-O-P up Swanging down the block with my heat co*ked, for them cops when I set up shop Ain't no way in hell, that I'ma stop When it was sad cause I'm ahead of my time, plus I'm head of the line See the heated 3-80, pointed dead at your spine 30 karats round my neck, cause I'm head of my shine Now the click come again, to put it dead on your mind (Hook) (Boss) Back at it again, Boss done grabbed his pad and his pen Cutting corners co*king the Coupe, with automatic again Lacing my stars in the morning, creasing my rag in the den Khakis sagging under my a**, I'm fin to drag em again n***az ain't never seen the corrupted rebel, riding in progress Set me up a corner, full of hustlers and watch it process I'm fifty two hundred deep, when I'm dipping on the solo Swooping up in the low-low, 17 slugs for the po-po It's Slow Loud And Bangin', tearing the top off your microphone Blacks gloves and black ski masks, when I'm in my sniper zone I did this for my n***az, doing time in a cell Putting they foot in n***az a**es, dropping dimes in the jail This for my C'd and my B'd n***az, over to my B-D n***az Fo' Tre's and ITC's, my TTP n***az Boss gon floss for the house, with a Nina Ross Keep my pockets full of green, and my hand full of green mounts (Hook)