baracuda ft. polyurethane Lyrics

Uh, uh, yeah, ay, yeah

Gotta take it back to the old days

To the old school

Boom bap type beat

MF Doom type beat

joey bada$$ type beat

Know what I'm sayin'? Ay, yeah

Barracuda in my pants, I'm chillin' on the sofa

I been chillin' in the yacht, UGK, ain't no hova

My banana finna blow, got it chillin' in my holster

Back at high school, used to hangin' up my posters

Now I'm hangin' up with Sosa

And I'm hangin' up diplomas

And I smoke about aromas

Did the mosas in Tacoma

Ay, yeah

Look, my mama always told me that my life couldn't be better

I be walkin' in the rain, damn, I should've checked the weather

And I'm not no Chuck E. Cheese the way I'm checkin' out my cheddar

And I know I'm finna get her, cause you know I'ma go getter

Ay, lookin' at my paces and they lookin' kinda dry

Man, I'm lookin' like a river in the middle of July

And you know what you should do, boy, sit down and cry

Cause you never losin' nothin' if you never even tried, huh

Now you speakin' to the motherfuckin' goat

Clean my throat, uh

Gotta watch my words so I don't choke

How you swimmin' with the sharks

You ain't even tryna float

Coast to coast, uh

Tryna get that bread so I can boast

Now I'm spittin

I was boutta freestyle, but I got it written

Spongebob, niggas in the kitchen and they flippin

Told her work her legs out, cause she steady trippin

Bitch, I'm tryna glisten

You are not the one I'm missin

You not the one I want, uh

Already got a girl that I'ma always flaunt

They say my niggas talk smart, speakin' different folks

Ay, hold on, whoa, whoa, whoa, slow it down

Let's not, let's not go crazy on these fools

Let's not go crazy on these fools, come on now

Let's keep it, let's keep it short and simple for them, man

They can't handle it, uh

They can't handle what's up next

They can't handle it

hopped out the jet, but you know it was a red-eye

Got so many macs, niggas thought I went to Best Buy

Talkin' out my name, then we got another dead guy

Get high, 380 bullets gon' make his hair fry

Losin' all my sanity, I lose it in the blunt smoke

Run up in that field, it's a whole lot of gun smoke

Rain on my knees every day, I'm like the fuckin Pope

Lace a nigga pert, got him feelin' like he jumpin' rope

He wants to go on testing more bombs

Well, I guess there's nothing for us to worry about

We're the ones that have the bomb

We're the ones that have the bomb