Back Up

(альбом: Wriggle - 2016)

Ate breakfast with my ex, dead bitch
Now she text me in the afterlife while I take a shit
Brush my teeth with a brick, shower in a bunker
Afterparty at the crib, we only huffing duster
Yelling in a telephone under the covers
Slipped in the shower now the light'll take me under
Dapped in the head, shirt turns red
In the garden with the snakes, now I'm living and dead
In a world with no Ant who the fuck needs friends
I got a million brain problems and my bitch is probably all of them

Trying to be down, well he probably could
But that bitch just a little too Hollywood
Took about a pound of the charlie 'fore the party good
He ain't never seen a brick they shot him where he stood
(Step off!) Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
(Step!) back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
(Shh) Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up

Drugs, (Drugs!) drugs, (Drugs!) drugs, (Drugs!) drugs, (Drugs!)
She take another shot and then she give another hug
She feeling really snug like a rug who under a bug
Or maybe she meant the opposite, Molly did and she copping it
Selfie photo she cropping it, since they asking she popping it
Self-control, yeah she locking it, all away, thong, she rocking it
Showing she lonely only to end up alone and clocking it
(Party, party, party, party, party) and she ain't stopping it
Next morning, time for work, she still asleep
'Bout to lose her job and it's the third time this week
She trying to make that paper on the web showing her feet
To them creeps, ain't she sweet, now he asking her to meet
At a club, 42nd and Whitelock, now he got her cornered
Trying to show her white cock (Come here, baby!)
She wear a smile, and then she touch it for a while
While he pulling out that pipe and he filling it with that white rock
He trying to fill her ass while he feeling it all cracked out
Stab, she pulls a katana that's Dolce Gabbana
And blood's everywhere, nigga back up, ah

Trying to be down, well he probably could
But that bitch just a little too Hollywood
Took about a pound of the charlie 'fore the party good
He ain't never seen a brick they shot him where he stood
(Step off!)Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
(Step!) back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
(Shh!) Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up

Fake red shit on them hot cheese sticks
From the corner store, pocket full of loosies and a cherry Coke
Red nose like a pit, wipes that on the sleeve
Back to the counter, pop clip, empty the drawer, leave
House packed from the front door to the back door, can't breathe
Loud pack lit out back in the backyard, that weed
Smelling the clothes under the skin, fuck up the flow, bitch going in
She twerking alone, you don't wanna touch her
She probably could bite your face off in a minute
She hitting them bath salts, like it was exfoliating
It's no more glasses cause the shits keep breaking
Get your rake up, step up, pour up, burn up
Hold up, shit, you already know
Turn up, turn up, turn up, so when the eyes look marble that's the code
And the rain is coming down again
Under the porchlight it glows, it burns when it hits the skin
Cleans the soul they say, but why would you listen to them?
Just get a new one, like a white tee, at the corner store they got 'em two for ten

Trying to be down, well he probably could
But that bitch just a little too Hollywood
Took about a pound of the charlie 'fore the party good
He ain't never seen a brick they shot him where he stood
(Step off!) Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
(Step!) back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
(Shh) Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up

Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up