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back in school - ysr gramz lyrics

[intro]
(enrgy made this one)

[verse 1: ysr gramz]
gettin’ rap money and trap money, i can’t stop trappin’
i can’t wait ’til the summertime to catch my favorite opp lackin’
catch a n*gga at a green light and stop traffic
you be givin’ freak hoes your money, n*ggas livin’ backwards
before i had a bank, i hid it in my mattress
seventeen hundred for a f*ckin’ jacket
i wasn’t born in chiraq, but i ain’t never lackin’
you was broke all year until you got your taxes

[verse 2: babytron]
huh
ever been blowed, scammin’ on the phone and forgot your accent?
the beef all fun and games ’til they drop your casket
lil’ cuddy slimy, he’ll ask like, “let me rock your glasses”
don’t get your buffs sn*tched
back in school, you was cryin’ for your lunch back
back in school, you got beat up and ain’t punch back
shе been a ho since a baby, that’s a rugrat
made ’em throw thе towel in, was lookin’ like a bloodbath

[verse 3: ysr gramz]
i’m in beecher, out here boolin’, where the bloods at?
got the 40 in the club, this b*tch compact
i went to school with a k in my backpack
bro said they like that scat pack, they finna carjack it
i was trappin’ in the f*ckin’ wintertime, i had a carhartt hat
two clips taped to the gun like a poptart pack
i got a ten*milli’ for you big n*ggas just like shaq
she gon’ let me f*ck on her for free, you gotta buy her cat
[verse 4: babytron]
i ain’t sip no drank in like a week
got the monkey on my bag, but the shrooms on my head
keep it on me while i’m sleep, got the tool on my bed
freaky*ass wh0re left a pool of drool on my legs
metal on me, cyborg
stone island windbreaker, call me rhyh*rn
never said i love you, so it ain’t no need to cry, wh0re
you a roleplayer, sit back and watch the guys score

[verse 5: ysr gramz]
the trap goin’ hard, got ’em beatin’ down my side door
lil’*ass n*gga can’t f*ck with me, he wear a size four
a n*gga put my name in a song, i’ma slide for it
i’m tryna hit the road and do scams, who tryna drive for us?
made him run from the drac’, n*ggas just like forrest
you gotta hold that b*tch steady ’cause it jump like jordan
n*gga mentioned gabe name and got his life shortened
i be on bullsh*t, i’ll fly this n*gga b*tch to florida

[verse 6: babytron]
then make her drive to georgia
with a map and a backpack just like she dora
better not let the cops check it or it’s chop suey
jefe bullsh*ttin’, pourin’ wocky in a trop smoothie
out of seven games, i bet we win four
fall off, bounce back, it ain’t sh*t to get more
wouldn’t chase a b*tch unless she was the mail lady
vernors x the quagen, finna do my ginger ale crazy
sh*ttyboyz, dog sh*t militia
long live scams

- ysr gramz lyrics

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