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letra de "ain't comin' back" official audio - yb slanga

[intro]
(ayy, kidsavage, load that clip!)
yb slanga in this b-tch—
yeahhh, yeahhh (bow!)
ayy—f-ck you talkin’ ’bout?! (grrah)
ouu!
slatt, slatt!
b-tch!

[chorus]
she textin’ my phone, told that ho leave me ‘lone (f-ck off!)
i’m deep in that zone, b-tch, i’m clutchin’ this chrome (brrr!)
lil wreck died, we slid, now his brother ain’t comin’ home (boom, boom, boom!)
can’t find dude? we dump on his folks—get smoked for singin’ that song! (stupid-ass!)
yeah, i ride wit’ demons (rrah), all black when we schemin’ (grrah!)
he postin’ that block too much—so we gon’ leave it bleedin’ (leave it leakin’!)
don’t bring up no opps, i crash out fast, ain’t no speakin’ (p-ssy!)
put switches on glocks, i let that b-tch sing like the weeknd (pew, pew!)

[verse]
they say i’m just 12, but my mind been 30 (facts!)
seen more blood than docs, my hoodie smell dirty (eww)
mama prayin’ i change, but i love ridin’ wit’ that .30 (clutchin’!)
and my big bro got whacked, so i been steppin’ early (step, step!)
put a drum on the chop, let it burp—go brrt! (brrrah!)
if i spot that boy lackin’, he gettin’ put in the dirt (no cap!)
n-ggas say they gon’ slide? man, these b-tches ain’t lurk (they lyin’)
catch his cousin on live, leave his shirt like his skirt (grrah, grrah!)
ayy, free lil bricks—he caught three bodies before 10 (free him!)
got some youngins that k!ll for sport, they don’t even need no friend (they demons!)
we ain’t shakin’ no hands, we turn shooters into fans (p-ssy!)
and that rat ain’t dead? then spin back and spin again! (spin again, b-tch!)
yeah, i’m high off percs, still paranoid in the whip (uh-huh)
i seen my homie die—ain’t shed no tear, just let it rip (let it spray!)
now this fn my therapist, i vent when i let it hit (let it hit!)
and them opps talk tough? till they face get flipped, b-tch! (boom, boom, boom!)
[chorus]
she textin’ my phone, told that ho leave me ‘lone (bye, b-tch!)
i’m deep in that zone, b-tch, i’m clutchin’ this chrome (clutchin’!)
lil wreck died, we slid, now his brother ain’t comin’ home (not comin’ home!)
can’t find dude? we dump on his folks—get smoked for singin’ that song! (boom!)
yeah, i ride wit’ demons, all black when we schemin’
he postin’ that block too much—so we gon’ leave it bleedin’
don’t bring up no opps, i crash out fast, ain’t no speakin’
put switches on glocks, i let that b-tch sing like the weeknd (pew, pew!)

[outro]
yeah (yeah), and that’s facts
yb slanga, b-tch!
ayy, june 1st, we outside!
don’t ask if i’m good—i’m dangerous
f-ck all them opps, we made the news again! (boom!)
slatt!

- yb slanga

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