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back at it again - s.l.a.b. lyrics

[trae]
back at it again, and i feel like i’m in my prime
f-ck rhymes, i’ma wreck this motherf-cker for d-nkie doing time
slow loud and bangin’ for life, n-ggas know it’s understood
how the f-ck n-ggas think they down, and they ain’t even from the hood
too many n-ggas in my section, so i had to make a change
plus n-ggas be disrespecting, so i had to take my aim
it ain’t no friends inside this game, n-ggas switching like the drop of a dolla
so catch the f-ck you out my window, as i flip my impala
d-gg-ng the road, plus even on mo’ got n-ggas in shame
and they can’t touch me in the ’84 range, i’m raw and untamed
see trae is self explanatory, and my att-tude show it
on the way to f-ck up they career, nine times out of ten n-ggas 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-ggas 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-ggas wrong this time
mistakes have been made, n-ggas know that you crossed that line

[jay’ton]
before you hate up on the s.l.a.b., get your weight up b-tch
so move around b-tch n-gga, ‘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-t in my pocket
a n-gga g’d up, boss chunking them c’s up
jay’ton up in this b-tch, with the t-o-p up
sw-nging down the block with my heat c-cked, for them cops when i set up shop
ain’t no way in h-ll, 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 cl!ck 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 c-cking the coupe, with automatic again
lacing my stars in the morning, creasing my rag in the den
khakis sagging under my -ss, i’m fin to drag em again
n-ggas 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-ggas, doing time in a cell
putting they foot in n-ggas -sses, dropping dimes in the jail
this for my c’d and my b’d n-ggas, over to my b-d n-ggas
fo’ tre’s and itc’s, my ttp n-ggas
boss gon floss for the house, with a nina ross
keep my pockets full of green, and my hand full of green mounts

[hook]

- s l a b lyrics

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