Backwoods stuffed with a 3.5
When I creep by, probably throwin' peace signs out the window
I'm busy, I ain't got time for pretendin'
Yeah, hit her one time and forget her
Sweat when we fuckin', work out like it's fitness
We ain't goin' steady, try not to catch feelings
She tryna start rappin', she want her a feature (Oh Lord, Jetson made another one)
I ain't into mixin' my hoes with my business

Plus I got my own bitch at home, I be chillin'
I can't even lie, I be feelin' alone even when in a room full of niggas
Devil played with my mind for a long enough time, now he don't even know how I'm livin'
Had to give it to God, I went and got on my grind and I turnt up on all of these niggas
Plus I stay with that iron, I'm Baby, don't pay me no mind
Told the bitch play with Sega, don't play with my mind
Take DaBaby away I'm still John, that lil' nigga gon' stay on his grind
I got all the way up out the mud before I got here, they ain't really want me to shine
Plus I ain't never think I was like one of you niggas, I've been this way since I was five
Think I done passed it along to my daughter, her confident quality, she only three
Got a whole 'nother beautiful daughter, they look like each other
Can't wait 'til the day that they meet
I knew it was room at the table for me to get somethin' so I turned up and got me a seat
Just to get what they want they gon' say that they love you
You gotta be patient and watch how they creep
Took the diamonds off all of my teeth
Won't let 'em put me in the box
Mama bought them Reeboks 'cause them bitches was cheap
First day of school we had new Soldier Ree's
When I'm talkin' to God only time on my knees
Even while on your knees with your hands in the air
Police shootin' before they say freeze
Left a piece of us dead on the streets

Backwoods stuffed with a 3.5
When I creep by, probably throwin' peace signs out the window
I'm busy, I ain't got time for pretendin'
Yeah, hit her one time and forget her
Sweat when we fuckin', work out like it's fitness
We ain't goin' steady, try not to catch feelings
She tryna start rappin', she want her a feature
I ain't into mixin' my hoes with my business

I ain't into mixin' my hoes with my business
You gotta believe me, all this ain't easy
Tell a fuck ho get out, if she ever think that she don't need me
I'm Toosii, look at my watch, now it's two-tone
What you think be the chance I could juke on?
Know I'm flyer than a bird, I be fly with the words
I'll fuck 'round, shit on your tombstone
Back to the basics, I ain't buyin' no Asics
I told gang grow weed 'fore he cop from a nigga
'Cause these niggas be hatin', he know that they'll fuck 'round and lace it
Go to New York, so fly with the pole, uh
Young nigga flyer than a ho
I be one deep, never four deep, put Forgis on the rims then I go slide with ya ho
But excuse me, I never ain't ask for this lifestyle
They get scared, know we shoot when them pipes out
The police tell him freeze with his hands up
He go to pull his pants up, damn, now he lights out
My mama treat me like a veteran
My brother think that I'm ahead of him
I tell him just 'cause I got a lil' money, I ain't actin' funny
He the reason I'm better than shit that I used to be
I take a Only Fans bitch turn her into a star, yeah right, nigga gotta get used to me
I could give a damn 'bout a ho 'cause the last bitch I fucked with she ended up usin' me
I know she mad that she ended up losin' me
I know she mad that the lil' bitch a fool to me
I been had it, baby, none of this new to me
Better think twice 'fore you think about losin' me

Backwoods stuffed with a 3.5
When I creep by, probably throwin' peace signs out the window
I'm busy, I ain't got time for pretendin'
Yeah, hit her one time and forget her
Sweat when we fuckin', work out like it's fitness
We ain't goin' steady, try not to catch feelings
She tryna start rappin', she want her a feature
I ain't into mixin' my hoes with my business

Plus I got my own bitch at home, I be chillin'
I ain't really pressed for no bitches
I know you ain't callin' yo' self a real nigga, upset 'cause you pressed for a picture
I know that they ten steps behind on a few of my gifts and they don't really get it
They know if they touch one of mine, I'ma air this bitch out, I put that on Miss Lyndale

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Jay Christopher McCorkle, Jonathan Lyndale Kirk, Naujour Grainger, Tahj Morgan