Layed Back lyrics

[Intro: KrispyLife Kidd]
Hold on, layed it back side of things n*gga
Alright
KrispyLife
Aye

[Verse: KrispyLife Kidd]
For Halloween, I'll drop four onions in a kid bag
This the newest Glock, the one you got, that gen trash
Slide on a barbeque, f*ck it up, granny hitting grass
Missed a couple sales, I was horny, I was getting ass
This a big engine, not that sh*t that you riding on
Put a hush on the front of this b*tch, get the sound gone
Yo chain, looking real dilly' what's them, rhinestones?
Say the wrong sh*t on one of your songs and get fired on
My girl daddy got the talking too loud and got fired on
Dropped a hundred shots in one night, that's a milestone
Took them shots and survived bro, you was in the Jesus section
Catch me in yo local mall in the Yeezy section
Heat seeker on the chop, this'll eat a necklace
I bought this with dope money, this a evil necklace
According to my granny though
b*tch caught me in the act, I put my hoe out the patio
Crack yo motherf*cking shell, pistachio
I know who di*k suck the most, let me call the goat
Walk in Gucci, they greet me by my first name
In the club with a blade, the opps gon' need a first aid
Reflective Off-White, the light hit, my shirt change
.223s hit his white tee and watch his shirt change
How the f*ck you say you a hustler, you ain't never had an ounce
My chain shining, real bright like Waffle House
Drunk too much lean, I woke up with the cotton mouth
Chop his crib, now the couch ain't sh*t without the house (aye)
[Verse: Roadrunner TB]
I be talking dogsh*t, but it's all Fick
Quarter brick, put it in a blender til' it's all hit
(?) juice and dogfood, that's a strong mix
Get the press and put it back together, that's a strong grip
Aye, where you at? I could get there
I damn near be in the kitchen more than silverware
Seven days a week, I'm in the trap, I damn near live in there
Quick to go and put some sh*t together like it's Build-A-Bear
Fans want a picture, TB handsome Squidward
Dance with his sister, f*ck then I lift her
California, I'm donating bands to the strippers
I don't worry about sh*t, my name good like a scripter
If you really tryna' spin, I could send it in
A lil' extra with the tester, just to reel you in
Hundred bowls sold, do that sh*t again
The only thing on my mind is how to f*cking win
Tryna leave the streets, lord be with me Imma' trap n*gga
Rapping don't work, I'm going back, I'm in the trap with it
Lean, pounds, and food on one jack b*tch I trap different
Like to f*ck hoes with boyfriends cause' they act different
I thought them n*ggas used to front me cause' them n*ggas love me
They only front me cause' they see I'm money
Crackheads, pops had the spot filled with junkies
Years later, I got Fentanyl in Covington, Kentucky