Ace Hood Gutta Back song lyrics

They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back

They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back

They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back

They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back

Broward County boss, yeah I said that

Fresh up out that Porsche, like where that work at?

Tell my mama that I got us, never turning back

Bitch I run my city, I'm just doing laps

Whole hood hating, say a nigga changed

Right around that time, the real money came

Oh well, different city, hotels

Plenty paper bitches pulling on my coat tails

You're the bad economy, they're dropping your sales

Shit ain't what it used to be, shout out to fish scale

Shout out them real Zo's, shout out my bad hoes

One for you broke bitches, better get your grind on

Word on the street they're praying on my down fall

You niggas bitches, reason why I stay from round y'all

Smell the money from a mile, like a hound dog

Balling every year, they just call me John Wall

Broward County boss, yeah I said that

In case you forgot, I brought that line back

In case you forgot, I put that on the map

Ready for war, [?] raps

Still strapped with that hammer, bad bitch from Atlanta

Still talking that shit, I'm young Tony Montana

What you mad for, cause I came up

Still real and ain't changed up

Came through in that Range truck

Diamonds shining like what the fuck

You still talking that dumb shit, talking bout what you gonna do

Talking about when you gonna blow, nigga man I'm twenty-four

I done been there what you trying to do, been places you trying to go

Compared fools to them great views and them [?] holes that I ran through

I was seventeen when I first signed, same day that my city rise

Six figures, no compromise

Only nigga who televised

Fuck the niggas who selling lies

Fuck them hoes who was never round

Finna' got for that nine to five

Keep the roll and my window down

I say now bitch get on to my level ho

Eighty grand for my Rollie' though

Fucked the bitch and that pussy soaked

Finna' work but you finna' choke

Fuck the fool with those funny loaf

Fuck you talking bout before

Send a shot through your front door

Signed, sealed no envelope

I said hood nigga from the twenty ho

Deuce, deuce when that Chevy roll

Real nigga come flick up, acting tough cause you clicked up

My youngest be on some fuck shit, bang bang's and that bitch clicked

Seven chains where my neck be, with a thick bitch in the back seat

I say fuck us all with that pussy, twenty K for my bookie

Fifty round in my chopper, Jumping out of that bucket

Say real nigga getting money, my top down when it's sunny

From [?] to them big M's, we still local I take trips, gone