Gutta Back lyrics

by

Ace Hood


[Hook]
They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back
They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back
They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back
They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back

[Verse 1]
Broward County boss, yeah I said that
Fresh up out that Porsche, like where that work at?
Tell my mama that I got us, never turning back
b*tch I run my city, I'm just doing laps
Whole hood hating, say a n*gga changed
Right around that time, the real money came
Oh well, different city, hotels
Plenty paper b*tches pulling on my coat tails
You're the bad economy, they're dropping your sales
sh*t ain't what it used to be, shout out to fish scale
Shout out them real Zo's, shout out my bad hoes
One for you broke b*tches, better get your grind on
Word on the street they're praying on my down fall
You n*ggas b*tches, reason why I stay from round y'all
Smell the money from a mile, like a hound dog
Balling every year, they just call me John Wall

[Hook]
[Verse 2]
Broward County boss, yeah I said that
In case you forgot, I brought that line back
In case you forgot, I put that on the map
Ready for war, ? raps
Still strapped with that hammer, bad b*tch from Atlanta
Still talking that sh*t, I'm young Tony Montana
What you mad for, cause I came up
Still real and ain't changed up
Came through in that Range truck
Diamonds shining like what the f*ck
You still talking that dumb sh*t, talking bout what you gonna do
Talking about when you gonna blow, n*gga man I'm twenty-four
I done been there what you trying to do, been places you trying to go
Compared fools to them great views and them ? holes that I ran through
I was seventeen when I first signed, same day that my city rise
Six figures, no compromise
Only n*gga who televised
f*ck the n*ggas who selling lies
f*ck them hoes who was never round
Finna' got for that nine to five
Keep the roll and my window down

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
I say now b*tch get on to my level ho
Eighty grand for my Rollie' though
f*cked the b*tch and that pus*y soaked
Finna' work but you finna' choke
f*ck the fool with those funny loaf
f*ck you talking bout before
Send a shot through your front door
Signed, sealed no envelope
I said hood n*gga from the twenty ho
Deuce, deuce when that Chevy roll
Real n*gga come flick up, acting tough cause you clicked up
My youngest be on some f*ck sh*t, bang bang's and that b*tch clicked
Seven chains where my neck be, with a thick b*tch in the back seat
I say f*ck us all with that pus*y, twenty K for my bookie
Fifty round in my chopper, Jumping out of that bucket
Say real n*gga getting money, my top down when it's sunny
From ? to them big M's, we still local I take trips, gone
[Hook]
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