Back Up Lyrics

"Back Up" was written by Phillips, James/hardnett, Wayne/matey, Andrew.
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"Back Up" was written by Phillips, James/hardnett, Wayne/matey, Andrew.
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Bob, ya head to this
Bob, yo head to that
Bob, ya head to this

They say I'm crazy but they can't faze me
Them chicks be lovin' me 'cause I be thuggin' see
I'm just a cut boy, I hang in the cut boy
I test 'em up boy, 'cause I don't give a fuck boy

Now, back the fuck up
Throw ya hood up
Back the fuck up
Now nigga what

Back the fuck up
Throw ya hood up
Back the fuck up
Now nigga what

I ain't trippin' naw, nigga never
Any kind of weather, wind or whatever
I'm way too clever, status too lifted
Talented and gifted, we tossed it, I pitch it
A hog in the dog, ball, fall and ball
Touch all of y'all, duck off in the fog

Sippin', a lil' tipsy, like Nipsy, fortune teller said it look bad
She was a gypsy, mean like fiend, a gangsta, nawha mean?
Underground, tell I'm under the ground, get the mainstream
Pistol packin', totin', smokin' cuttin', throatin', soldier
I told ya, back up Rova, it's over

They say I'm crazy but they can't faze me
Them chicks be lovin' me 'cause I be thuggin' see
I'm just a cut boy, I hang in the cut boy
I test 'em up boy, 'cause I don't give a fuck boy

Watch me flippa, flippa, treat em' like a doubie
Roll it and spin it fast, just like a Oozie
Ain't gone let it blues me, let nothin' get to me
Come back hard and star in my own movie

If ya think ya know me man, you don't know me
I done seen it all and done it all, ain't nothin' you can show me
I roll with high rollers and purse snatcha's
Cut boys, homie that still cause throw backa's

B.G. Skeeza's that count cheese and hold keys
Screamin' C, please let me see ya enemies
I keep it real like Murda dog and black dog
I'm attack dog, waitin' to jack and whack y'all

They say I'm crazy but they can't faze me
Them chicks be lovin' me 'cause I be thuggin' see
I'm just a cut boy, I hang in the cut boy
I test em' up boy, 'cause I don't give a fuck boy

Back the fuck up
Throw ya hood up
Back the fuck up
Now nigga what

Back the fuck up
Throw ya hood up
Back the fuck up
Now nigga what

Ridin' down the wrong way down a one way on a Sunday
With a A.K., with the base hay, wildin' out, wildin' out boy
With a pocket full of stones, I'm in the zone
Do the gangsta walk, do the gangsta bounce
Now show ya gold's boy, mean mug that fool
Now show ya gold's boy

They say I'm crazy but they can't faze me
Them chicks be lovin' me 'cause I be thuggin' see
I'm just a cut boy, I hang in the cut boy
I test em' up boy, 'cause I don't give a fuck boy

Back the fuck up
Throw ya hood up
Back the fuck up
Now nigga what

Back the fuck up
Throw ya hood up
Back the fuck up
Now nigga what

Once again, you have been listening to
An XL and C-murder collaboration
Ya know, I told him, if he get me the vocals
I could hook him up, ya heard me
Holla, holla, holla, holla

Songwriters
PHILLIPS, JAMES/HARDNETT, WAYNE/MATEY, ANDREW

Published by
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing

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