G.T., BabyTron, Certified Trapper - Back On Tour Lyrics

Long live $cams (let's go, go, go)
ShittyBoyz
(Meech) ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

Tell me why they cap like they get paid for (why they cap?)
My BabyTron 'bout to go on another tour
This time we bought Certified Trapper, let's score (ayy, ayy)
I couldn't go broke 'cause I'll get my money out a whore (for real)
Hop in the coupe, make the pedal hit the floor
Bitch want allowance, she don't ever do no chores (for real)
I'ma be a hood nigga, straight on the fourth
Off an eight, got a nigga late to the awards
The trunk in the front, the motor in the back
To everybody who doubted me, I'm gettin' racks
I heard you niggas broke, don't tell me that's facts
A hundred 'bows sold in one day, close the trap

I could make a forty in a day, no cap
If it ain't a sealed eighth of Morty, nigga, I ain't tryna rap
The lil' bitch super skinny ass, ain't tryna clap
Brodie put him on a shirt, nigga wasn't tryna rap
Get split with some particles
Man, them news reporters on my dick in them articles
Bitch, I'm out on bail for a switch and my arsenal
If your mans told, you a bitch, that's a part of you

Your mans a mouse, you must be keyboard
B30s run a size small, now my feet sore
Catch me in the field, in my zone like a three-four
Could never give a bitch my all, not even three fourths (nope)
How the fuck you say it's beef? You got a clean fork (ham)
Akhi tryna slaughter pigs, but he don't eat pork (brrt)
Loaded bank account, but I'll still come and freeze yours
Fully-modded TRX, you ever heard a beast roar?

Get him from around me, I heard he poor
They thought I was there, but I wasn't, that's the decoy
And you can come work for us, nigga, 'cause we employ
And niggas ain't have no real money since the unemployment
By time the PPP came, I had a half a ticket saved
And I ain't lyin' 'bout shit, I put that on my granny grave (for real)
Money so old, it's damn near my daddy age
And I could blow it all today, I know it's already made, ayy

What's a hundred thousand?
Bricks layin' everywhere like we flippin' houses
Put a cool fifty in your car, we don't shoot at houses
Get on tip with this motherfuckin' blick, get to puttin' down shit

Fifty on the whip on some just to get around shit
Ridin' Sprinter trippin', the Militia got a pound lit
Catchin' plays with my lil' bitch, told her, "Count this"
VVs in my black buffs, trapper bust the brown sticks

I don't want no rap ho, I want a down bitch
Since a nigga at the top, you on the ground, bitch
Hit that shit one time, I need another round, bitch
It get real smoky in the lab 'cause them pounds in (Meech)

When Meech on the beat you gotta let it breathe
If I went wearin' my kit, I bet you'd hella freeze
Talkin' 'bout some 'za, you dead wrong, boy, you sellin' seeds
I ain't ask your life story, why you tellin' me?