[Intro]
(To get to the Backrooms, you must no-clip out of reality)
Ayy, yeah
Ayy, yeah

[Verse 1: bleood]
Why you keep on talking, I'ma get my brother on your
Ass
Had to flip that pack quick, n***a had to get the bag
Fuck with the B, yeah these bullets finna catch yo' ass
Ayy, ayy, ayy, n***a talk on me but he cannot get up in his bag
If you talk down on nick and I promise that he on your ass
Talk on clay' and I promise you he on your ass
Since I was thirteen, tryna get that bag
Hit the bank with a ski mask, had to do the dash
My n***as really stepping, put you in a body bag
You keep talking on IG, n***a, put you in a body bag
I wasn't on shit 'cause that shit really fucking wack
In the back, with Nett' n***a, yeah, you know that we smoking grass
In the back, with Nett' n***a, yeah, you know that we smoking fucking thrax
If I'm not with gang, lil' n***a, so l know what you smoking on

[Verse 2: Nettspend]
Gotta Glock, uh, yeah
Walk up in club like a cop-like a cop
Life with the gun, grab his sock-grab his sock
Bitch, yеah, fucking six, ain't slut-slut-sluttin'
Hit the spot with the drop-with the drop-with thе drop-with the drop-with the drop-with the drop-with the drop-with the drop
Yeah, fucking 'round these men, at the trap with a gun-with a gun-with a gun, yeah-with a gun-with a gun-with a gun-with a gun-with a gun-with a gun-with a gun
Hit his tummy, now he runnin' to his mom
Fucking on a Tomboy, she gon' suck-gon' suck-gon' suck-gon' suck-gon' suck on my draws-on my draws-on my draws
We finna fuck to this song-to this song-to this song-to this song-song-song-song
To the motherfucking song-song-song-song-song, fuck