Backdown - Rasco, Planet Asia

I like this, all tribal

Yeah, aww shit

Back down, cause nigga we back now

Back down, cause nigga we back now

Back down, cause nigga we back now

Burnin the track down

They got me goin in, sober kind hype loaded

Though in the night I’m like a 747 Boeing

Nike Air Jordans, soaring, velour touring

Raw forum for it blow up the whole forums

Black money markets, stocks rack up profits

Cali Agents back on top

Back on the block so you can stop watchin, waitin, hatin

'76 the king’s throne was first taken

And since then it never was vacant, with no hesitation

Get at your chin have you lookin like Leatherface on vacation

For tryin to make statements

MaKe way for the cake maker, trey eight shooter

Hooba smoke through the dope pimp player

God Body persona honor my winter gear

Triple goose gun talk, P.A.

clack

Clack clack clack motherfucker yeah C.A.'s back

Back down, cause nigga we back now;

back down, cause nigga we back now

Back down, cause nigga we back now;

C.A., P.A., we burnin the track down

Back down, cause nigga we back now;

back down, cause nigga we back now

Back down, cause nigga we back now;

Rasco, C.A., we burnin the track down

Yeah — semi-automatic with it

Tell niggas that I work hard, that means I gotta get it

Still rollin with the glass tinted

Gotta do it up front never tell 'em at the last minute

But you gotta put some cash in it

C.A.

quick to blast, spit the gas

Now it’s, highly octane, brothers thinkin they can stop fame

Man niggas really pop thangs

Out rollin in the drop stained

Still lookin for a breeze to freak for more cheese, get it

She said that I’m tryin to hit it

Got it all fucked up man I’m tryin to split it

C’mon, you know we got ready to smash

Smash, ain’t none of y’all better than Ras'

Ras', I’m 'bout to put a foot in your ass

And keep movin, bumpin this track and keep groovin

Blood brothers, take it back home, hood life

And never forget, we still live the good life

Ras and As', cash for days

Pull the shotty out my Sean John and blast your braids

Ask your dame, she should know cause she got brains

At the weed spot lookin for Jane, this is gold chain

Cali Agents yard game, guns click, bandanas black

Fuck a battle rap, where the cabbage at?

Yo it’s the head slapper

Dick Swan' still the head rapper, right now it’s the dead factor

It’s the bread stacker, paint shirts with the red lacquer

Spit rhymes not a gun clapper

The before and after, better call an after

Wrote the book, you lookin at a closed chapter

First and last, provoke your past

Back down so that we don’t have to choke yo' ass nigga