Letra de Back From The Dead - Yung Bleu

(Feat. JD On Tha Track)

Riding in the ghost, the hood know me well

This shit hard to find, this that holy grail

Court side, sit so close it's like we know the players

But I'm a player too, my jersey in the booth

Bitch I'm in my bag, Gucci puffer coat

Nigga I'm in my bag, I broke enough for us both

You fuckin' with the goat

Uh, fuck nigga

Ridin' in the Vette

Every time I hit the gas it make her pussy wet

How Yung Bleu got all them millions, he ain't went viral yet

No I won't be on TikTok, but I got Sierra Leone diamonds in this wristwatch

We did the impossible, told my niggas lock and load

We got drums in this bitch like rock and roll

AR bullets run through niggas like we run through obstacles

Fuck we fighting for, step on a nigga like a cockroach

I fuck with Mexicans from Mexico, they kill you vamanos

We jump off the Porsche Geronimo like "eenie miney moe"

I look over my shoulder more than a nigga drop the soap

Bitch you nasty, real nasty, nastier than guacamole

I'm so Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

See you pussies in the afterlife, we at your casket closin'

Home invasion, check the front door then see if the back is open

Be aware, don't be lackin' focus, they might crack it open

Racked up, money on your head, fuck nigga

I come alive

Straight back from the dead, fuck nigga

Are you scared, fuck nigga (And let the streets say amen)

(What you wanna do?)

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

This the intro nigga

He on the list so get his info pull a kick door nigga

How you gon' run beyond your ass just like a nympho nigga

New real estate, no you can't find this shit on Zillow nigga

I had the ups, couldn't even slide, he had his kiddos with him

New rental car, I copped it, my bitch named the windows tenant

Big Bleu, the big old menace

New magazine extendo on the Glock, it shoot like gasoline

We tryna rob everything, we ain't nothin' but a pack of thieves

I'm ridin' with a cold ass killer

These bitches be mad and bitter

They don't know about Jeremy Bitter

I came from rags to riches

Nigga I ain't scared to get you

I was in here with the roaches and the rats

I'm on go like a soldier in Iraq

Tell these niggas I don’t an interaction

Mo' transactions

Fuck nigga I need mo' transactions

Racked up, money on your head, fuck nigga

I come alive

Straight back from the dead, fuck nigga

Are you scared, fuck nigga (And let the streets say amen)

(What you wanna do?)

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

Run this money up, run it

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