I got your backfade, I got your backfade

A hundred **** knocked out, a hundred racks made

I got your backfade, I got your backfade

Couple Ms for my son, had the track made

Mason jar with the Branson in it

Two-tone Maybach, look like I spent a **** whole advancement in it

New York bars on a Compton ****

Mobbin' through Laguardia, he back and this time, he brought a monster with him

Big Hit on some big hits, poppin' big shit

Rag brighter than the lady gremlin lipstick

Right pocket on some opposite-of-Crip shit

Stuff half and let the rest bleed like my wrist slit

Land of the misfits

Where we never miss a court date, but we miss Neighborhood Nip's shit

If I ain't bangin' this shit, I'm bangin' his shit

Hit produced it, I wrote it, and ****, we ain't mix shit

And I'm still in the streets with it

Somewhere between the 105 in the middle of the beef with it

Eat with it, sleep with it

Point me out in a lineup, yup, he did it

I got your backfade, I got your backfade

A hundred **** knocked out, a hundred racks made

I got your backfade, I got your backfade

Couple Ms for my son, had the track made

Told Game just gimme the sign, just point him out and he gon' die

I'm rushin' **** like rushers, L-Gang, fuck repercussions

****, it's nothin', I'll sock you out, stomp you out, knock you out

Max you out like a stolen credit card, ****

What's happenin'? P the Rollie, blood, leave the Rollie

Cleats to his face, ****, meet the goalie

His **** ran up, then I stole him

On PDL, 'bout to bleed 'em, homie

Nah, blood, I ain't cut, but I'm cut like that

L-Gang, **** bust, I'ma bust right back

I keep one in the chamber 'til I'm the one in the chamber

Like the beats on the rest of this album, ****, we bangers

I got your backfade, I got your backfade

A hundred **** knocked out, a hundred racks made

I got your backfade, I got your backfade

Couple Ms for my son, had the track made