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rap backwards - 3200 tre lyrics

[intro]
(marc boomin, this you?)
it’s thirty, come on, like
hm, i gotta bad b*tch on her knees, she finna tie my shoes
hm, i gotta b– alright, like

[verse]
hm, i gotta bad b*tch on her knees, she finna tie my shoes
and she got her own glock, she do drive*bys too
hm, when she wit’ me, she be honest but she lie ’bout you
ain’t no speedin’ in this b*tch, i gotta ride my coupe
i’m not gon’ drag my sh*t
hm, i barely come outside, so if you see me out, i’m probably lookin’ for some ass to grip
hm, i’on really know no scammers, i cash my drip
huh, yeah, it’s a few thousand on me, stop addin’ my sh*t
stop tryna download me
i had to leave the hood, that sh*t wouldn’t seem too good, couple n*ggas was actin’ foul on me
huh, n*gga ran up on me stupid, i had that fire on me
i told my brothers, “we gettin’ rich”, i’m not gon’ die on ’em
hm, i can tell the ass real just by the thighs on her
sometimes i pick her up to chill, she got a vibe on her
hm, i did not tell on a ho, i dropped a dime on her
hm, and i’m payin’ all her bills, so you can’t slide on her
you can’t dm her, or you can’t snapchat her
i’m never goin’ broke again, b*tch, i’ma cash stacker
hm, they made me sit down for a minute, now i’m back active
i’m the best at talkin’ sh*t, i’m d*mn near finna try to rap backwards
like, sometimes, i gotta flip my words around
hm, girl, this sh*t ’bout you, quit tryna flip my words around
hm, 50k is not enough, i turned 130 down
hm, tell your n*gga quit hatin’, quit turnin’ thirty down
like, n*gga, turn this sh*t back
hm, if your b*tch ever gave you pape’, turn the b*tch back up
hm, you ain’t tryna come, that’s cool, i got a b*tch back*up
soon as they say my hand healed, i holdin’ my wrist back up
n*gga, i gotta show my watch off
i can’t even hit this b*tch no more, she throw’d my rocks off
lil’ bro handled the ball well, i call him hot sauce
i’on got nun’ no more, so i just closed my opps off, like
n*gga, i just closed my apps out
i just re’d up, f*ck i look like throwin’ all my crack out
i’on hit my dope, boy, this sh*t look like raw vs. smackdown!
n*ggas hoes, if they could, they’ll probably take all my stats down
hm, i get my gun inside of clubs, i don’t get pat*down
if you ain’t about to help me move the b*tch, then put my sack down
huh, n*ggas think it’s a game ’til some get [?] down
once you catch one, it’s there, ain’t no puttin’ no hats down
come on, i’m a real money counter, b*tch, it’s gaffle around
hm, before i pop jack out the box, i put jack in the ground
hm, ain’t no comin’ out of this, i want my jack’ if it’s styled
hm, couple n*ggas rappin’ like me, now they jackin’ my style
hm, they ain’t gettin’ off like me, they ain’t havin’ the sauce
hm, if i like it, it’s gettin’ bought, i’m never askin’ the cost
hm, i can’t swim but i do be out in traffic wit’ voss
hm, if you don’t know which car i’m in, how you actin’ a boss?
hm, how you [?] at me?
hm, i’on even drive no more
i call and get one in, get high in the back of the v
hm, girl, i like the way you sound, it’s the accent for me
hm, a b*tch words never matter, it’s the access for me
hm, f*ck what you type to me, f*ck what you sayin’ to me
yeah, you can cook but you a sl*t, f*ck what you feed to me
hm, all i used to do is cheese, now i got bread to me
hm, i’on buy pills off the streets, they get my meds to me
[outro]
come on
real money counter, mine sh*t, b*tch
it’s thirty

- 3200 tre lyrics

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