Back Flippin
Back Flippin

Luh Tyler - Back Flippin Lyrics

3

Back Flippin Lyrics

(Xair, let me get that motherfucker)
Skee
Yeah, nigga
Yeah, nigga
Shoo, shoo
Nigga (nigga)
Yeah
I'm a player not a simp, bae
This shit comin' off the head like a temp fade

Hold on, baby, I'm a player not a simp, bae (not a simp, bitch)
This shit comin' off the head like a temp fade (like a temp fade, yuh)
And your bitch tryna kick it like a Sensei (like a sensei)
Maybe you can get a wig, but I ain't payin' rent, bae
Young, steppin' in some bands, know I brag different
I can go and spend it, nigga, 'cause my bag different
That bitch, she ain't really fuckin' bad, that ho catfishin'
And I got your bitch, doin' tricks, this ho backflippin'

I been smokin' on that gas, you can smell the aroma
In the booth, I'm in that mode, sippin' Arizona
You might think bro finna crash, the way he bent the corner (skrrt-skrrt)
Take your bitch and give her back, no I don't even want her (what the fuck?)
Take your bitch and give her back, I want a refund (want a refund, nigga)
In the booth, got on dark shades, I can't even see nun' (I'm Ray Charles)
I be high up in the stars, now I finna be one
How the fuck I cut you off, you runnin' back, that lil' hoe D1 (what the fuck?)
Yeah, she's a track star
Baby I'm a dog, like them pits in the backyard (yessir)
I be on some other shit, why niggas tryna act hard? (They tryna act hard)
And we steady gettin' to that money, nigga, that part
With your bitch, you can call me Timmy, know I'm finna turn her up (I'm finna turn her up, yeah)
Nigga we been gettin' to that bag, that's what I'm runnin' up (that's what I'm runnin' up, yeah)
And my name gettin' hot up in the streets, say I'm burnin' up (say I'm burnin' up, yeah)
Nigga ain't no doubt about it, niggas know for sure I'm comin' up (yeah, I'm comin' up, nigga)

Yeah, we been gettin' to that cake, bitch (what?)
I ain't never flag, nigga, know my pockets straight, bitch (nigga, what?)
Steady grindin', nigga, know that's what it take to be great (that fo'sho')
And I'm spittin' real shit up on the mic, this ain't no fake shit (hell yeah)

Hold on, baby, I'm a player not a simp, bae (not a simp, bitch)
This shit comin' off the head like a temp fade (like a temp fade, yuh)
And your bitch tryna kick it like a Sensei (like a sensei)
Maybe you can get a wig, but I ain't payin' rent, bae
Young, steppin' in some bands, know I brag different
I can go and spend it, nigga, 'cause my bag different
That bitch, she ain't really fuckin' bad, that ho catfishin'
And I got your bitch, doin' tricks, this ho backflippin'

Nigga, yeah
Nigga, yeah
What the fuck?
Shoo, shoo
Yeah, nigga
Skee

Writer(s): Lamar Alexirod, Tyler Meeks
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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