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team backpack one week notice cypher - team backpack lyrics

[verse 1: jarren benton]
yeah, i like a b-tch that suck d-ck with a kung-fu grip
my whole squad on that sh-t, them n-ggas come through l!ck
it’s the god, i told you that my brains ain’t right
and how you gangsta when you n-ggas look like rainbow brite?
b-tch, i’m watchin’ for the serpent
i came from the dirty, couldn’t wash ‘em with detergent
with the glock, i’m like a surgeon, blaow, dr. oz
i box the art, doc ock, long arms
i box with god, basquiat, ugh, murals in the hallway
the mic in good hands like that n-gga from allstate
fake -ss and t-tties man, these b-tches are all fake
p-ssy good, i take her out for dinner, she mall steaks
y’all n-ggas cb4, i smack a privileged white boy that holds a tiki torch
i’m evil, i play with the ouija board
i k!ll a n-gga in the 8, they in the pete st. morgue
how you gangsta? won’t approach me without ten dumb goons
i k!ll a cripple n-gga, give ‘em ten gun wounds
i might nuke a n-gga like i’m kim jung un
them crackas still look at y’all like “them dumb coons”
f-ck ‘em, live and embarr-ss ‘em, high as a bird
green wallabys n-gga, heisenberg
cl!ck clack blaow, say your final words
animal lover, all kind of fur
hold up, let me chill ‘fore peta trip
i give a b-tch hard d-ck and pita chips
new year, new money, amnesia b-tch
i don’t remember you n-ggas, you haters can eat a d-ck
what part of the game is this?
i got a hand full of organs, what part of your brain is this?
i’m the captain, y’all are fractions
you n-ggas play the back like civil rights didn’t happen
i really k!ll ‘em, these b-tches be in they feelings
i give these hoes d-ck, now she faintin’ like wendy williams
you call that n-gga fam but these n-ggas really be villains
plottin’ on your death, know the karma gonna really k!ll ‘em m-th-f-cka

[verse 2: demrick]
we handle business, just scaleless livin’
boy don’t you doubt that
my hittas rackin’ riffs just like some outback
and f-ck yo contract, f-ck yo deal
save them fairytales for them other rappers
yeah, i know ‘em very well
sickle cell, look in the eyes, you can tell
if he gon’ ride or hide and go and tuck his tail
fresh outta jail to a house in beverly hills
and how he got there would probably give you the chills
‘cause n-ggas makin’ deals with the devil, i promise
rather take my time and grind, i’ll get it regardless
aim at the target, hit the sh-t direct, cut the check
we in effect, you gon’ need more than a rep if you gon’ intercept
god in the flesh, resurrect it real, yeah you gotta know it
one week notice and every verse that i drop is golden
i got that gold henny bottle flooded with the diamonds
some say i’m overdue, i call it perfect timing, b-tch

[verse 3: emilio rojas]
now i ain’t rockin’ any gold but imma latin king
i don’t have a single gang affiliation, i just rap and sing
cuban link on the venezuelan, don’t f-ck with the rich and famous
because they look at us like we nothin’ but spics and vagrants, nah
f-ck immigration, they just wanna rape us
and everybody livin’ here is an immigrant except the natives
our people givin’ em everything except our papers
and they done did it all to us now except to pay us
the conversation when they talk about race in america
they don’t mention like any hispanic faces
but slavery still exists if you never get livin’ wages
even if it’s illegal, it’s a f-ckin’ violation of your human right
whatcha know about walkin’ through the night?
hillbillies gunnin’ you down if you ain’t movin’ right
the heat and the lack of water’ll make you lose your life
your family getting’ deported, sh-t, you could lose your wife
and everything that you sacrificed is gone
brilliant minds treated like they should be mowin’ lawns
way before donald, the drama was goin’ on
they pullin’ over our cars, they ask us to show our cards, ah
they profilin’, brrrrrtttt, they so violent
and they expectin’ our people to go…
they see our culture and food and they fetishize it
and every dude want a latina woman beside him
but they don’t wanna hear about how our family came
can’t roll they r’s, can’t pr-nounce the family name
to be a slave, homie, you ain’t have to be chained
it’s ours too, we just have to go claim it, m-th-f-cka, what up?

- team backpack lyrics

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