Bacc to Bacc

(Everything Mvjor)
 (Iceberg want a bag, bitch)
 Uh, yeah, I'm in LA smoking 'Woods of exotic opps
 Flew with the Glock on the plane, don't get mollywhopped
 Killers with me, no, we don't need a bodyguard
 Mm-mm, nope, no, I poured an eight of the Wock' in exotic pop
 Designer don, wear Forces with Gucci socks
 He was hating on the low, fucked around, got the nigga dropped
 Uh, fucked around, got the nigga dropped
 Shots at his head, ain't no need for him to call the doc
 Dissing the gang, that's the shit got your partner shot
 Got the drops from a bitch, should've knew not to trust a thot
 Damn, but you should've knew that
 That's type of shit that'll get a ho blew back
 Call me Scarr Iron, might beat a ho blue-black
 Hellcat, it's fat, this bitch come with some run flats
 Uh, yeah, snatch your pole off your hip
 No, you can't get your gun back
 Grim Reaper Gang, fuck around, get your soul snatched
 Youngins, they ready to step like a doormat
 Woah, but you should've knew that
 I heard he got shot and he ain't get to shoot back
 Prepared for the bitch, yeah, we ready for comeback
 Freaky lil' bitch eat me up like a fruit snack
 Uh, yeah, capping on what? Boy, you know you ain't do that
 Big Scarr hang out the scat with the Dracs shooting, who next?
 We no ID, y'all could tell just like, "Who that?"
 Uh, yeah, like, "Who this?"
 Spin a opp block, put that on my to-do list
 Still'll mask up and go slide, I don't do hits
 These niggas rap capping, my gang really do this
 Uh, woah, these niggas boys, you know that we grew to this
 Your bitch in my phone and she sending me nudity
 AR shoot flames, this bitch came with a cooling kit
 Stop claiming the body, you know you ain't do the shit
 Used to be broke, now I'm stupid rich
 Got on my shit, I ain't got time for the foolishness
 Uh, yeah, I'm in LA smoking 'Woods of exotic opps
 Flew with the Glock on the plane, don't get mollywhopped
 Killers with me, no, we don't need a bodyguard
 Mm-mm, nope, no, I poured an eight of the Wock' in exotic pop
 Designer don, wear Forces with Gucci socks
 He was hating on the low, fucked around, got the nigga dropped
 Uh, fucked around, got the nigga dropped
 Shots at his head, ain't no need for him to call the doc
 Dissing the gang, that's the shit got your partner shot
 Got the drops from a bitch, should've knew not to trust a thot
 Damn, but you should've knew that
 That's type of shit that'll get a ho blew back
 Call me Scarr Iron, might beat a ho blue-black
 Hellcat, it's fat, this bitch come with some run flats