Prompt / Lyrics
[Intro] Back on my— (back on my shit, yeah) Back on my— (look) [Verse 1] Took that L, now I tax like a letterman Turned every doubt to a dividend, that’s better men Smile in my face, in my phone with the evidence I don't play god, but I’m judging all the estimates Friends turn snake, I just shed ‘em like leather skin Heart on freeze, I been cold, check the weather then Wolves in the wool, I see teeth through the sweater thread I don't need closure, just closure on the extra rent Talk is cheap, I need cash in the captions You just act rich, I do cash-only casting I don’t buy lies, but you sold me a fraction Now I’m flip-flopping trust like a gymnastic backspin [Chorus] I’m back on my shit, no cap on my win Cut ties, can’t stitch, left ‘em back in the bin You was fake from the jump, I was stacking my ends I don’t need new friends, I need racks and a pen I’m back on my shit, yeah I’m taxing again Turn a doubt to a flip, turn a loss to a Benz You can talk how you talk, I’m just cashing it in I don’t need your love, I need bags in the wind (yeah) [Verse 2] Trust? That’s a loan I don’t offer at all You wrote checks with your mouth, now you choking on chalk I been married to the grind, you just hoping to talk I got rings from the work, you just posing for blogs Circle so small, it’s a line now Only real ones in my time now You a penny in the fountain I climbed out I turned every single doubt to a dime now I’m the landlord, every bar is a rent day Every snake in my grass hit the temp spray I don’t bend, don’t break, I just segue From the pain to the pay, that’s a template [Chorus] I’m back on my shit, no cap on my win Cut ties, can’t stitch, left ‘em back in the bin You was fake from the jump, I was stacking my ends I don’t need new friends, I need racks and a pen I’m back on my shit, yeah I’m taxing again Turn a doubt to a flip, turn a loss to a Benz You can talk how you talk, I’m just cashing it in I don’t need your love, I need bags in the wind (back on my—) [Bridge] Too loud for the lies, I can’t hear none You was there for the shine, not the year one I got scars on my back from the “real ones” Turned every cut to a bill, that’s a steel drum (hey!) [Chorus] I’m back on my shit, no cap on my win Cut ties, can’t stitch, left ‘em back in the bin You was fake from the jump, I was stacking my ends I don’t need new friends, I need racks and a pen I’m back on my shit, yeah I’m taxing again Turn a doubt to a flip, turn a loss to a Benz You can talk how you talk, I’m just cashing it in I don’t need your love, I need bags in the wind (back on my shit)
Tags
rap, Aggressive East Coast trap hybrid: swung drums, sharp hi-hats, snarling 808s, detuned bells. Harsh male vocals with a raspy edge, ad-libs tucked behind key punches. Verses dense with punchlines; hook opens with gang vocals and a stomping clap pattern. Occasional filtered drops before bar-heavy payoffs, final chorus with stacked chants and rising synth risers., male vocals, hip hop, harsh
Duration
2:37
Instrumental
No
Created
3/26/2026