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the get back freestyle - hugh heff lyrics

[intro]
the nine on me like a baca
one shot will turn your noodle into pasta
i’m a puerto rican mixed up with a rasta
and only real n-ggas on my roster (woah!)
it’s heff
10 deep ent
hav waddup
keif i see you (uh)

[verse 1: heff]
they say do it for the gram
i ain’t gone do it
ever since a youngin’ a n-gga always went through it
father wasn’t there, my mother
always getting high
grandmother struggled just to keep a young n-gga fly
i took the sh-t into my own hands
started out four grams of that lohan
god dealt me the cards, i played my own hand
try me and n-ggas steal ya window like bro man
money be the route to all evil so get ya weight up
these n-ggas b-tches easy to score
like a layup
n-ggas throw subs on the gram but don’t at me
f-ck a grammy n-gga i do this for my family
my brother in the jam facing two cause his p.o
scared to put a n-gga in the game like i’m d. rose
money bags under my eyes, no time to sleep
i spent that 20k and made the sh-t back in a week n-gga (i really did that)
the nine on me like a baca
one shot will turn your noodle into pasta
i’m a puerto rican mixed up with a rasta
and only real n-ggas on my roster (woah!)
put my connect up on his feet
80 bands, i used to move that every week
n-ggas steal nickles and dimes, that sh-t week
bqe, i’m switching lanes, hit perfections for a freak n-gga
when it come to the money, i don’t play ’round
i was calling for them birds like a-town
a n-gga try and rob me, he getting laid down
had the deuce deuce, i upgraded to the trey-pound
i used to f-ck b-tches in the rental
les breed, i was raised in the ghetto
smith p’s where i came from, keep it a hunnid
i can teach you b-tches how to ball, pat summitt
i play for the green, i’m number 1, mic vic
ray allen from the line, n-gga, i don’t miss
i’m putting in work like tommy with no job
got a ratchet b-tch named her keisha with the nose job
always had hoes, so, f-ck is ya telling me
b-tches in and out of the crib, bill bellamy
grams for a dime, had the hood in a frenzy
a hundred sixty an o, n-gga, i’m not stingy
i’m shooting 40. cal, n-gga feel like 40 rounds
i am the father, you my son, i feel like maury now
you hating n-ggas need some p-ssy, give ya shorty rounds
shoot ’em like a buzzer beater, feel like robert horry now
i might take a selfie with ya b-tch
way before a check i been rich
40 on me but i ain’t shawn kemp
and won’t miss i’m reggie miller with the grip
(40 on me but i ain’t shawn kemp, and won’t miss i’m reggie miller with the grip x2)

- hugh heff lyrics

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