Staple Gun Madness

Guess I’m going back,
Guess I’m going back,
Left some money on the table,
Guess I’m going back,
Plug telling me they really miss me in the trap,
And I could triple up my money,
Guess I’m Going back.

Guess I’m going back,
Guess I’m going back,
Left some money on the table,
Guess I’m going back,
Plug telling me they really miss me in the trap,
And I could triple up my money,
Guess I’m Going back.

Down a dark lonely road,
That I know,
And it’s filled with rats,
Word on the street, The super Chef is back,
Little did I know I left a whole load of bread,
Niggas tried to slice it, And now I’m on the head,
I been gone from the streets too long,
Cus I ain’t hearing niggas singing my songs,
I started living right,
And left y’all dead wrong,
What was I on, What was I on,
It’s a shame y’all been dealing with the frauds,
Only real shit that I’m hearing,
Coming from the real broads,
And I could give a fuck,
About a nigga and his car,
When he steady getting smoked,
like a big Cuban cigar,
Watch the liquor pour slow,
Like the ice on your head,
Steady sleeping on us,
Got that lice in your bed,
Running thru the lights,
We ain’t stopping when they Red,
Living dreams in your head.

Guess I’m going back,
Guess I’m going back,
Left some money on the table,
Guess I’m going back,
Plug telling me they really miss me in the trap,
And I could triple up my money,
Guess I’m Going back.

Guess I’m going back,
Guess I’m going back,
Left some money on the table,
Guess I’m going back,
Plug telling me they really miss me in the trap,
And I could triple up my money,
Guess I’m Going back.