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The Get Back (2021)
by
BandGang Lonnie Bands
Back
Lyrics
(Ayy, Rob, I think the feds listenin') Huh, loyalty, I can't see myself gettin' my boots smoked Friendless, I'm scared I might get smoked by my own folks Met somebody close, so I gotta keep 'em close But the other side long gone Man, they outta there Man, we came chopsticks, we turned Detroit to Hong Kong Bro f**k around and put that powder everywhere But f**k it, we gettin' our Johnson Johnson on Cold-blooded, Rick James ain't got sh*t on the Band-gurb I just made some chicken wings out a half bird The ones we so-called beefin' with, they was fans first We set they roof on fire, let it burn That mean his top missin' I'm in that thing with the top missin', in that Continental b*t*h, that n***a ain't no killer, he did it on accidental I got a V12 engine, but made more in the rental Lost my closest friends in one year, f**kin' up my mental They like, "Lonnie went brazy, f**k wrong with him?" Don't say nothin' crazy to him, you know he keep that pole with him Huh, and he might have your ho with him I ain't been home in a month, tell my b*t*h I'm cheatin' What's a side b*t*h? All these b*t*hes equal Come here, lil' b*t*h, my name Lonnie, nice to meet you I'm evil, and I sell that sh*t that go in needles They like, "What's the price on that?" It's a feature I ain't no ape or no snake, I'm a creature I realized they get dishonor when they don't need you It make it easier to knock your ass off if I need to They want that old Bandman Before unemployment, we got rich off scams Hey, they want that old scam man They don't know they call me Mr. Thousand-Eight Grams I make 'em bag it up with no top I think the feds watching, had to close shop This saran wrap music the new hip-hop Honestly, I made less of music than that Chris Rock Everybody hate Chris, but love that cocaine Everybody with the sh*ts until that smoke flame And me and the gang never split, we split whole thangs With my new friends, we the Shred Gang Hold on, hold on, pause it, I can— (Ayy, Rob, I think the feds listenin') Huh, I think the car bugged, phone tapped Huh, huh but f**k that They ain't stoppin' sh*t, they call me Bandman comeback Knock the air out his chest, he wanna run flat Poke his ass, poke his ass, call that boy a thumbtack I call lil' bro garbageman, he ask who to dump at I think swipin' dead, please tell me where the dumps at They like, "What the f**k is that?" Your credit card, front and back I used to be a scammer's dog, sellin' all kind of cat Until I heard my daughter talk, then I'm like, "I gotta rap" My baby grabbed my pink diamonds, she a flawless brat They asked me where I get them diamonds at, where them Africans at They want that old Bandman Before unemployment, we got rich off scams Hey, they want that old scam man They don't know they call me Mr. Thousand-Eight Grams, hold on
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