Back on that Wok (Freestyle) lyrics

Ayy, Ayy, Ayy, Ayy
Ayy, Ayy, f*ck that sh*t
b*tch I'm
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah
Okay

[Verse 1]
Off of the Molly I'm bussin
I don't talk sh*t, I don't do no discussions
Run up on me, then that choppa it's rumblin'
Ball on that b*tch like the OKC Thunder
Freestyle off of the top, it ain't nothin'
sh*t on that b*tch, I think she need a plunger, uh
I eat the beat like I'm hungry
High off the b*tch, I think I got the munchies, uh
Percocet pop got your b*tch in the back
And she giving me top in the Cadillac, uh
Talking that sh*t 'til I pull up with brodie
Right in that gun like a cataract
Talking that sh*t 'til I pull up with brodie
He shoot at your face, and I blast your back
Hit you in yo chest, no asthma attack
I don't got time for the battle rap, uh

You'll come back when you done doing your hair?
"Yep"

[Verse 2]
Bet that, hit him in his face he forget that
In ya home where the sh*t at, huh
Run up in your trap where the sh*t at, huh
Designer on me, no mismatch, uh
Break the b*tch off no KitKat, uh
She get slapped like a pimp named Slickback pull up on a, uh
I'm back on the wok
You run up on me you'll get shot
I kill a n*gga like a white cop
You run up on me then you get popped
Choppa from Black Ops
I'm gon' take a stand like a black cop
Man i'm roaming with my mans
Probably in Japan
Had to sleep on the flight
11 Hours off a Xan
I used to pour the wok
By the eighth I was in a trance
Had to stop it for a second now I'm back hitting a dance
Back on that wok, yeah uh
Back on that wok, yeah uh
Juiced up like Pac, yeah
Juiced up like Pac, yeah huh
Back on that wok, yeah huh
You'll get shot, yeah huh
I'm off the uppers, I don't give a f*ck, molly I pop, yeah huh ayy
Serving them rocks, popping them rocks I got your b*tch on my c*ck, uh
Diamonds are rocks, n*gga just stop I see the fake in your watch, huh
You is a cop, you is a opp
f*cking with me you'll get popped, I go to Gucci, maybe Raf Simmons, If a n*gga wanna shop
Back on the wok again, yeah
Hand on my Glock again, yeah
Her mouth on my c*ck again, yeah
I keep on conquering, yeah
I'm in the club with a forty, yeah
Came in the club with my shorty, yeah
My gun hot and horny, yeah
That's a different story, yeah
Ayy, I ball out feel like a Laker, b*tch
I sip the henney, no chaser, b*tch
My gun is full of led, ironic cause it'll just get to erasing sh*t
f*ck with n*ggas on that racist sh*t, run up on me get to blazing sh*t
Jackie Chan kush in my swisher, goddamn I smoke 'til I look like a Asian kid

Back on the wok, back on the opps
Blaow, Blaow, Blaow (Back on the wok, yeah)
Blaow, Blaow, Blaow (Back on the opps, yeah)
I'm rollin
[Verse 3]
Back on my opp block
Pull up to the opp block
I need some top top
Run up on me got the Glock Glock
b*tch on my c*ck c*ck
Go and suck my c*ck uh
Just 'cause your boyfriend walked in the room, don't mean you can stop, nah
sh*t, Imma f*ck her face 'til she get lockjaw, huh
Hit it from the back so good she screaming out "Oh My God!", uh
Baby I'm far from god, huh
Really I'm just being modest, huh
I pray to god everyday for forgiveness, huh
I know sometimes I ain't that honest, huh
I keep on flying, I'm flyin' out trying, they calling that sh*t autopilot, uh
Gun a librarian, and a barbarian, b*tch yeah, it came with a sillence, yeah
I'm going hard off the Xannies and Perkies, you lil n*ggas just need to try it, huh
Feel like Rick Ross or sum, my pockets fat they don't need no diet, ayy
Feel like 2 Chainz or sum, with this new Draco, Imma start a "Riot", ayy
n*ggas talk stupid to me, It ain't nun for me, to leave em dyin', ayy
Leave they mama cryin', ayy
Families traumatized, ayy
Presidential Rollie, see it through Obama's eyes, ayy
I can't believe that n*gga Trump
Is president, for what
I mean this sh*t, is kinda f*cked up
But I'm still rich, so who give a f*ck
I can't say that, cause I care
And I got n*ggas that's still in the trenches
I can't wait for everybody get they winnings
They gotta get it to theyselves, gotta get it, uh
Imma talk my sh*t and back it up
Pull up in that all black, black Acura
I shoot it too accurate, Ironic "Accurate in the Acura"
Talking that sh*t, you can't catch us, uh
You gon' need more than some backup, uh
All my n*gga be axing questions like they throwing hatchets, uh, ayy
Try us, if you want, cause my n*ggas, in the back, and my n*ggas, in the front
With a mac, couple gats, and a strap, better run
Cause my n*ggas, down to hunt
Imma treat, you just like, a pigskin, go and punt
Get the f*ck out my face, Imma pick up your b*tch, get to f*cking her face
All of my n*gga be gripping them Ks, you ain't talking no money, the f*ck out my face
Imma go chase to the bank
Walk in the bank
Remember I would run to the bank
I use to follow the card-crackers to the bank
Couple of 'em, robbin' the bank, hold up
Back on that Act
Sippin' that wok 'til I asthma attack
Run up on me then I'm shootin my MAC
And my n*ggas get money, yeah, that is a fact
Feel like Bobby Brown, I'm spitting the crack
Ain't got that, b*tch, get the f*ck out my trap
I f*ck that b*tch from the muf*ckin' back
I hit that so good, she ain't know how to act, uh

Like can I mess up, Ion know
I gotta fess up, I mean I'm finna make a confession
I mean this sh*t about progression
I mean my word is my weapon
I'm in the beat so good, yeah taste so good
Imma come back for seconds
Imma kill a n*gga, it's my preference
Imma send a n*gga up to heaven
You micro soft, like Windows Seven
I spit sh*t like a damn Reverend
I'm young n*gga like adolescent
I'm in school, I could teach a lesson
I'm in the cut, with a Smith & Wesson
I got the b*tch, from the f*cking West End
I f*ck the b*tch, in the f*cking Westin, huh
I'm up on tour, yeah huh
I'm back from tour, yeah huh
I'm back from tour, yeah huh
I'm back from tour, yeah huh
Remember my old twitter handle "Juice Dior", yeah
That was when I was broke, now they could call me "Juice Dior", yeah huh
AP my wrist, ayy
di*k in yo b*tch, ayy
I told that b*tch to act like a dog, just give me a lick, ayy
I know these b*tches be b*tches for real, they bitin' like tics, ayy
So I have to use a rubber, 'fore I bend her over, and hit, ayy
Back on that b*tch, hmm
Back on that cat again, huh
Hittin' that cat again, huh
I'm up to bat again, huh
I'm Barry Bonds with her friends, huh
I just got in with twins, huh
They suck me up in my Benz, huh
It was real, it wasn't pretend, huh
Back on that Act again
I was flippin' them pack, yeah
I was full of Adrenaline
Listening to Eminem
Riding in that ol-
Riding in that old-school Ram
Now I pull up in a new-school Lamb'
I don't really give a Hoover damn
But I'm in Amsterdam, smoking the gas
Countin' the cake, getting the cash
Look at yo b*tch, I'm finna smash
I record it, while I hit from the back
I remember, I was pouring up green
Now a n*gga really pouring up Act
Now a n*gga really poppin' them Mollies
Rollin' rollin' I was up in the class
I remember rollin' in gym class
I remember rollin', doin gym laps
I remember rollin' up in math class
Yeah told my teacher "had the last laugh, rich as f*ck on yo b*tch ass
Yeah, teacher you a broke ass, yeah, man you failed tryna teach the whole class"
Hahahah
Yeah, came back on they broke ass
Run up on me, you get poked, yeah
LOL, but this sh*t ain't no joke, yeah
Run up on me, you know what I'm on
Choppa on me, it's getting you gone
I'm up in a Lambo it transform to a Rari, that sh*t Megatron
Light up, just like Tron
Put that di*k in yo mom
W-W-W, dot, you ain't on sh*t, dot com
Run up on me you done
These n*ggas my sons
My brother locked up, won't let that n*gga out just like Akon
Back on that wok
Hand on my Glock
b*tch on her knees, please, just give me top
I'm in the studio, wait
Can you turn me up a notch?
I'm juiced up today, they calling me Young Pac, ayy
AP my wrist, it cost 250
Even though, my gang is 150
Run up on me, then that choppa hitting
It came with equipped with a muf*ckin' titty
f*ck a 30, b*tch, I need me a 50
And f*ck an Auto, rather I have a semi
I could finger f*ck the b*tch, how I wanted
I shoot a n*gga, maybe u-
Uhhhh