T.I. - Top Back Lyrics

(T.I.)

Crem de la crem, homie...top shelf, ye know

I like my beat down low,
Down low,
Down low, Ye see me ridin' hard homie..Haaaa
Down low, down low,
Down low, how I like it
Down low, how I like it, aye
I like my top let back, Mannie Fresh.. I got you n****
Let back,
Let back,
Let back,
Let back,
Let back I'm gonna show these niggaz what to do with one of your beats, mayne..aye
Aye holla if you like ya beat down low,
Down low I'm shuttin the whole block down
Down low,
Down low,
Down low,
Down low,
Down low
And my top let back,
Let back, Here comes trouble homey
Let back,
Let back I'ma tell you how the King like to ride homeboy
Let back,
Let back,
Let back

Chorus

I like my beat down low, and my top let back,
You can see me ridin 24's, with a chopper in the back
And if ye like ye
Kenwood hot, and ya top let back
If ya rims sit high, and ya windows pitch black
I like my beat down low, and my top let back,
Can see me ridin 24's, with a chopper in the back
Aye holla if ye like ye
Kenwood hot, and ya top let back
If ya rims sit high, and ya windows pitch black, hey

Verse 1

I'm the man in my city, ain't nobody f***** wit me
You can ask the real niggaz, and all the bad bitches
I'm a known drug dealer, I always have 50's
And the thugs and the killers was all in class wit me
SS'S on 26's, watchin some television
Shorty I'm never slippin got the berretta in vision
And ready to pop the clip in, ready to get to trippin
Ready to show these folks a celebrity pistol whippin
Pimp stolen' the automobile and the roof for the tag missin
Polices' try to pursue me it's nothin but gas given
Addicted to fast livin, yes I'm one of my dads children
Think I'm bad now, you shoulda seen me before I had children
Give dick to ya daddy's daughter and they outta have children
Hope he got some insurance cause death her ass enduring
Kill her in Mississippi and drive her ass to Missouri
Still my wet paint drippin' while I'm woodgrain grippin

Chorus

Verse 2

It's Pimp Squad Click, I know you hearda bout us
Young n***** filthy rich, and we ain't worried bout much
On this glock I, clutch In God I trust
If a fuck n**** start bet his heart I bust
Got ya partners and ye broad in ya car fucked up
What, ya under estimation thought a star wouldn't bust
I got the heart and the guts, on this purp I blow
Move ten bricks daily tryin' twerk five mo
See the Cadillac swervin down Hollywood Road
On the flyest bird in Cali fuckin Hollywood Ho's
On a pill and half with my partner Young Dro, Dro
Bumpin Goodie Mob, Soul Food, number fo
Other rappers' old news told dudes I'ma pro
With a loaded fo fo and a quarter brick of blow (Hey)
Nigga don't you hit me less you buyin 6 or mo
My 24 blades glistenin and my 808 kickin

Chorus

Verse 3

I wear the crown down under, man somebody better tell 'em
'For I spit a hundred rounds and have everybody bailin
I got some bitches in a Benz and my partners in the Chevy
And now we ridin Giovanni's and Asani's on Pirellis
If ya ever think ya tryin to run up on me just forget it
The clip in the chopper long as ya leg and leave ya shredded
Pistol way in the truck got my knife on tuck
Ya think he ain't getn stuck you got life fucked up
A couple stiches in ya hip will have ya night f***** up
Will he live? Will he die? I guess he might luck up
Meanwhile I'm racin my Ferarri like a light for a buck
Against Lamborghini Gallardo everytime I get a car...

Chorus

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