Rap Backwards

(Marc Boomin, this you?)

It's Thirty, come on, like

Hm, I gotta bad bitch on her knees, she finna tie my shoes

Hm, I gotta b– alright, like

Hm, I gotta bad bitch on her knees, she finna tie my shoes

And she got her own Glock, she do drive-bys too

Hm, when she with me, she be honest but she lie 'bout you

Ain't no speedin' in this bitch, I gotta ride my coupe

I'm not gon' drag my shit

Hm, I barely come outside, so if you see me out, I'm probably lookin' for some ass to grip

Hm, I don't really know no scammers, I cash my drip

Huh, yeah, it's a few thousand on me, stop addin' my shit

Stop tryna download me

I had to leave the hood, that shit wouldn't seem too good, couple **** was actin' foul on me

Huh, **** ran up on me stupid, I had that fire on me

I told my brothers, "We gettin' rich", I'm not gon' die on 'em

Hm, I can tell the ass real just by the thighs on her

Sometimes I pick her up to chill, she got a vibe on her

Hm, I did not tell on a ho, I dropped a dime on her

Hm, and I'm payin' all her bills, so you can't slide on her

You can't DM her, or you can't Snapchat her

I'm never goin' broke again, bitch, I'ma cash stacker

Hm, they made me sit down for a minute, now I'm back active

I'm the best at talkin' shit, I'm damn near finna try to rap backwards

Like, sometimes, I gotta flip my words around

Hm, girl, this shit 'bout you, quit tryna flip my words around

Hm, fifty K is not enough, I turned one-thirty down

Hm, tell your **** quit hatin', quit turnin' Thirty down

Like, ****, turn this shit back

Hm, if your bitch ever gave you pape', turn the bitch back up

Hm, you ain't tryna come, that's cool, I got a bitch back-up

Soon as they say my hand healed, I holdin' my wrist back up

****, I gotta show my watch off

I can't even hit this bitch no more, she throwed my rocks off

Lil' bro handled the ball well, I call him Hot Sauce

I don't got nun' no more, so I just closed my opps off, like

****, I just closed my apps out

I just re'd up, fuck I look like throwin' all my crack out?

I don't hit my dope, boy, this shit look like Raw vs. SmackDown!

**** hoes, if they could, they'll probably take all my stats down

Hm, I get my guns in clubs, I don't get pat-down

If you ain't about to help me move the bitch, then put my sack down

Huh, **** think it's a game 'til some get fapped down

Once you catch one, it's there, ain't no puttin' no hats down

Come on, I'm a Real Money Counter, bitch, it's gaffle around

Hm, before I pop Jack out the box, I put Jack in the ground

Hm, ain't no comin' out of this, I want my jack' if it's styled

Hm, couple **** rappin' like me, now they jackin' my style

Hm, they ain't gettin' off like me, they ain't havin' the sauce

Hm, if I like it, it's gettin' bought, I'm never askin' the cost

Hm, I can't swim but I do be out in traffic with Voss

Hm, if you don't know which car I'm in, how you actin' a boss?

Hm, how you fappin' at me?

Hm, I don't even drive no more

I call and get one in, get high in the back of the V

Hm, girl, I like the way you sound, it's the accent for me

Hm, a bitch words never matter, it's the access for me

Hm, fuck what you type to me, fuck what you sayin' to me

Yeah, you can cook but you a slut, fuck what you feed to me

Hm, all I used to do is cheese, now I got bread to me

Hm, I don't buy pills off the streets, they get my meds to me

Come on

Real Money Counter, MINE shit, bitch

It's Thirty