Ladies and gentlemen, people with jobs
People without jobs, middle class
Upper class, high class all that
Cats, snakes, chickens, ducks

Elderly people and twerkers
I present to you
Fre-fre-f-fre-fresh
Fre-fre-f-fresh
Fre-fre-f-fre-fresh
Fre-fre-f-fr
Young ladies

Put ya hands on ya knees and bend ya rump
Put ya back in, back out and do the hump
Put ya hands on ya knees
And bend ya rump
Put ya back in, back out and do the hump

Well I'm fly as son of a gun, son
Of a stunna yep, high as a 7-5-7 goin'
To heaven no
Weezy F your reverend
Preach about me I'm the God, 1-7
Apple and E
I'm the Cash Money Machiavelli
Y'all ain't ready, quick fast
Like Tom Petty, y'all just petty
Eighty two, I was born ready, I'm too ready y'all
Betty Crocker baller blockers I'm too heavy
Meatball Lamborghini, top
Spaghetti, seats Ragu, uh twenty to shoot
Oh me and you got plenty to do
I don't need no pool, I'm swimming in you
And I sleep with the sharks, shorty
On the water water, and I Beamer eight hundred forty mama
Shake something for me, and it
Don't make sense if it don't make that money
I'm a take that money
I'm straight Cash Money

Put ya hands on ya knees and bend ya rump
Put ya back in, back out and do the hump
Put ya hands on ya knees
And bend ya rump
Put ya back in, back out and do the hump

I bring it back to the bottom of the map
I bring it back to the bottom of the map
I bring it back to the bottom of the map
I bring it back to the bottom of the map

I take off my brim, moment of silence
For the homeboy Souljah Slim
Yeah
Frontin' round here will get ya back chopped off
We do our own thing
We don't act like y'all
I say black
White walls with the backs wiped off
Y'all lil' busters just a tax write off
I'm a stand up guy, not the type that
Fall, we don't breed them kind but they bleed just fine
Yup Weezy the don, homie read between the lines
If you can't, boy, read ma 9
I'm going hard in the paint like Diesel time
Either I'm the illest cat doing it or these cats is losing it
I be easy, Fall back and be cool wit it
Pallbearer is moving it
Their flow, I'm through it wit'
I'm the shh, no no, I'm sewer rich
Weezy F Baby I do this here!

Put ya hands on ya knees and bend ya rump
Put ya back in, back out and do the hump
Put ya hands on ya knees
And bend ya rump
Put ya back in, back out and do the hump

I bring it back to the bottom of the map
I bring it back to the bottom of the map
I bring it back to the bottom of the map
I bring it back to the bottom of the map

A old school gangsta, mack like the eighties
I look like Cita and act like Baby, yup
You play wit' me I react like the navy
Or better yet the army y'all gon' need them for me
And ya head is a bleeping target
You don't want me to see you wit' ma peeking Tommys
Wizzle fizzle I keep in New Orleans
Sleeping with women that sleep wit' the Hornets
A country boy in something foreign
'Bout a hundred thousand more than what you're in
You not 'bout it, you freeze up like popsicles
Pop up on bicycles
Pop y'all like spy pimples, yup Wizzle fizzle
Original hot bizzle, still Lil' Wayne
But the dividends not little
Yeah don't be surprised how the ground feel
Get down, get down, put up then footprints

Put ya hands on ya knees and bend ya rump
Put ya back in, back out and do the hump
Put ya hands on ya knees
And bend ya rump
Put ya back in, back out and do the hump

I bring it back to the bottom of the map
I bring it back to the bottom of the map
I bring it back to the bottom of the map
I bring it back to the bottom of the map

Ay, the best rapper alive
Since the best rapper retired, yea yea
Yea, the best rapper alive, yea yea
Since the best rapper retired


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

Bring It Back Lyrics as written by Dwayne Carter Byron Thomas

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics powered by LyricFind

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