Loon – Back Up Off The Wall lyrics

[Featuring




Loon] No

Flagro, Uh

what, Yeah!!

Brand, Nu' comin' through Long

Island Harlem, World all, out all, out Let's

talk abou tit What

yeah, now, put ya hands up Uh

what, now, put ya hands up Put

ya hands up Now

get ya back up off the wall [Sadat

X] I'm

better feeling than running raw Chain

gang link I need a shrink What

y'all niggaz think I'ma do when I get real money Iano

keys played in series Peace

to Lil' Cease Microphone

track board loose, chord oh, Lord Promo

number one Sadat X had a grenade And

the have next day I smashed the shit Allie played Now

we delayed by ninety days You

better find me anyways You

better return to the Terrordome ain't, nobody home Non-haters

play the corner in the elevator Crash

crews smack the open palm so you don't bruise You

push a button and what happens nothing I

push one and there's a man with a gun in the doorway I'm

in 4A I, been in there all day I

had some smokes some, bitches and chicken on a slab There's

enough for everybody so y'all niggaz don't grab Chorus

Loon: Come

on come, on come, on yo, So

get your back up off the wall What

I, said dance come, on come, on So

put your hands up Stop

frontin and pop somethin Cornball

niggaz stay frontin ain't got nothin Mad

cause the life I lead twice, ya speed Brown-skinned

mami that's, the wife I need Light

that weed front, nigga might just bleed Tryin

to ball with y'all but I might just flee [Lord

Jamar] The

second coming of Christ I'll

make you run for your life It's

like a gun up against a knife You

can never win when, we fight to the end I'm

tight with the pen Don't

be going off the head cause, they be blown off the head And

showin off the skills of the mentally dead I

do the knowledge before any words get said Herbs

get me red hold, on Simply, Red Pimps

be dead in rap everybody's, fed with that y'all

could go ahead with that I'm

trying to show you where my head is at Dread

be the positive black Drop

the be you , get lack See

you when you get back Lyrical

three-pack spiritual, miracle Uhh

Lord, Jamar the imperial Microphone

serial killer urban, guerilla You

acting mysterious we, out to take this rap shit seriosu Slap

the taste out of your mouth then, break out Chorus

[Grand

Puba] Now

I'ma put a rush up on molasses Breeze

on through like easy passes Wiggle

more asses than aerobic classes El

kabong my, people blaze them trees up like Cheech and Chong Get

that ass open like a pair of butt cheeks in thong For

sure dog I, don't mean to come off pushy Blaze

your party hot and, have it smelling like D'bussy Spit

my phlegm and drop my gem Collect

my wins and copy the Benz with the icy rims I

be dramatical mathematical, radical, thriller The

mic killa wreckin more shit than Godzilla Matter

of fact I'm more iller knock, your shit off the pillar The

four-wheeler touched every flava but vanilla You

know my name my, game so, shorty shake that thang I

get you open like them ball-head niggaz on Rogaine Spit

my flow all the way from New Ro' to

Acapulco white, poos brown like cocoa Flip

flows def like so so Chorus