Yung Gravy - The Boys Are Back in Town Lyrics

Ayy, bitch, I'm dead fresh, I might pull up in a casket
You be lookin' sweet like a f*ckin' fruit basket
Spit a couple raps, I get a check and Johnny Cash it
I smash it, I let your mama rock my sunglasses

Don't think nobody gonna f*ck with me like I do
Look at me killin' it, motherf*ckers always talkin', but dammit, I'm high too
That means I don't give a f*ck

Yeah, I wanna stunt
I make your salary thrice in a month
I pay your daddy to roll up my blunts
And he blow your allowance to pay for my lunch

You ain't with the shits, you ain't with the shits, you ain't with the shits
You ain't with the shits, Ramirez with your bitch (whoa)

Ride in the back of the truck with the pump, with a mask covering my face
Double the Glock 'cause I rip through the flesh
Inside of the Cutty with thing on my waist
Kick in the door, point me to the safe
F*ckin' the posters up with all the bass
Heat-seeking missiles, I load up and hit you
I carry the coffin and drop it in grave (ho)

You ain't with the shits, you ain't with the shits, you ain't with the shits
You ain't with the shits, Pouya with your bitch

I'm in my zone, I'm in my element, that's daily regiment
I'm pullin' up to Gravy's mama's house with perfect etiquette, lil' bitch
(Hey Mom, look, the boys are back in town)

Lil' bitch, f*ck that
They been tryna kill me 'cause my bucks fat
My new bitch so thick that I got lost up in the buttcrack

I'm ready to give my guns back
Hop back in the ring and I run that
Rid of them off that love pack
I'm 'bout to be gettin' my funds back

Smokin' up on that swamp sack
Cut back in the 'Lac off the Prozac
Pimpin' these bitches, I'm breakin' 'em off as they hangin' up off my nutsack

Baby bone, got a bone to pick with you, yeah
Hold up, Ricky Bobby, I'm jacked up on Mountain Dew, yeah

You ain't with the shits, you ain't with the shits, you ain't with the shits
You ain't with the shits, Trippy with your bitch (whoa)

Mozzarella, marinara
Put that shit up on my pasta
I just got the Panamera, uh
Only flexing 'cause I gots to
Bought some dope and made it water
Shark Boy, Taylor Lautner
Come for your mother and daughter
Puffin' the indica harder

I just f*cked your bitch in the back of my '96 DeVille (whoa) (woohoo)

Ayy, bitch, I'm dead fresh, I might pull up in a casket
You be lookin' sweet like a f*ckin' fruit basket
Feel like I'm Houdini when your sister let me smash it
I dive up in the coochie handcuffed for ten minutes
Blindfolded, then escape, that's magic
Bitch