T.i. - Top Back lyrics | LyricsFreak
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Top Back Lyrics

T.i. – Top Back Lyrics

from album: King. (2006)
Creme de la creme homey, top shelf you know
I like my beat down low, down low, down low
Down low, down low, down low, down low
I like my top let back, let back, let back
Let back, let back, let back

Ay holla if you like your
Beat down low, down low, down low
(Yea you already know what this shit is nigga, remix nigga)
Down low, down low, down low, down low
I like my top let back, let back, let back
(Mannie Fresh, T. I. P whatup nigga?, I got'cha nigga)
Let back, let back, let back
(I'ma show these niggaz what to do)
Ay holla if you like your

I let my chain hang low, keep that thing up on my waist
All then haters talkin' reckless, tell 'em say it to my face
Can see a bank roll, yeah I almost caught a case
It's the remix, so Mannie Fresh drop the bass

I say now twenty-eight inches got me sitting so high
Reach straight up through the clouds, God damn I'm in the sky
Got my eighty-seven zone, God dammit I'm fly
Bet you anything won't any nigga try it

I push the look come Wednesday the drop that Monday
Ice cream Impala same color as a sundae
So you can miss me with that hatin' and that, "He can't rap shit"
Tell them faggot-ass niggaz wrap they lips around my dick

God damn my money sick, ayy I need to see a doctor
Black on black Bentley call it "Phantom of the Opera"
Lemon lime drop top, I call it a "Sprite"
When I pull out the garage you can call it a night

I like my beat down low and my top let back
See me ridin' 24's with a chopper in the back
You like your Kenwood hot and your top let back
If your rims sit high and your windows pitch black

I like my beat down low and my top let back
See me ridin' 24's with a chopper in the back
You like your Kenwood hot and your top let back
If your rims sit high and your windows pitch black

Dro, my trunk gon' break the damn law
I'm ridin' through the hood with eights are damn raw
Them twenty-sevens tall but them eights are damn raw
Bitches know they see the platinum is grey like grandpa

Spray the Chevy all kinda sour apple colors
Diamonds up in my charm look like pineapple suckers
Tec-9 for some, mac-90 for others
Leave the weapon on Bucatti's I got on my Danny Glovers

Nah this ain't a movie but I shot "4 Brothers"
And plus I got a Chevelle that flop four colors
Cars without the covers, my beat down low
I let my rims sit high, I'm the best thing blowin' now, Dro

I like my beat down low and my top let back
See me ridin' 24's with a chopper in the back
You like your Kenwood hot and your top let back
If your rims sit high and your windows pitch black

I like my beat down low and my top let back
See me ridin' 24's with a chopper in the back
You like your Kenwood hot and your top let back
If your rims sit high and your windows pitch black

I got my treble up high and my beat down low
I don't slam no doors, hop in where the roof go
What I need a roof fo'? Replace it with the sky
Streets be mine with that Georgia on My Mind

Ridin' in the wettest paint, like I'm surfin' on a tidal wave
Cocaine whip yeah straight out the microwave
The man in the trunk sound like the man knockin'
Five pass rockin' with stacks in my pockets

I got money in my pocket and my mind on mo'
To hear myself think I like my beat down low
Cigarello full of dro and the Chevy two-toned
It's sittin' on chrome that's how I get my roll on

Gotta dip through the hood you know Gizzle keep it real
I see some hot girls so I'm a turn it up a lil'
Let 'em bounce to the music ba-bounce to the beat
The top down, hop in and ride with a G

I like my beat down low and my top let back
See me ridin' 24's with a chopper in the back
You like your Kenwood hot and your top let back
If your rims sit high and your windows pitch black

I like my beat down low and my top let back
See me ridin' 24's with a chopper in the back
You like your Kenwood hot and your top let back
If your rims sit high and your windows pitch black

Even though I like my beat down low and my top let back
Chrome feet down low and my Impala wet back
Ditch or dash, hit the gas tell them niggaz check that
Make them bitches sit back, woofers give 'em wet cats

Comin' down in the Chevy motor sound like it very tight
It is you can tell I hear the tire yellin' er' line
And the way they ain't kickin' I bet you could still hear it
Loaf of bread, I cut it up a bit, I get left feel here

Okay my money real big, the choppers is still here
They catch me with it fuck it I'm doing my lil' bit
And my drop top ridin' with my glock cocked ridin'
I'm looking for them niggaz where they at stop hidin' hey

Now that's a motherfuckin' remix nigga
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Songwriters: BYRON O. THOMAS, CLIFFORD J. HARRIS, JAY W. JENKINS
Top Back lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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