Guess Who's Back Lyrics

by Glasses Malone

Guess who back up in this ho
Guess who back up in this ho
Guess who back up in this ho

[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricenter.com/e105085-glasses_malone~guess_whos_back_lyrics.html ]
All my real bitches still with me
The fake hoes have left me
Well fuck all ya'll too, tell your new nigga come test me
Real bitches still with me, cause real niggas get stoned
And I'm too whipped my nigga
Guess who back up in this ho

Fresh from that dealer, I pay cash for this here killer
Cash for this here killer, cash for this here killer
No limit like P Miller when they come to get in that scrilla
My bitch drapped out chinchilla
Hit that mo, bo and Philip yea

Yea, on gas, no break
Real nigga, no fake
Banana clip, go ape
So look boy, go play
Cause you test me, you gon fail
I catch a case, post bail
That beat the case, no ale
Cause the 38 leave no shell

Homie I'm different
Turned up my cripping
Bad bad bitches on my side
Haters trippin, they gon ride
Bad bitches on my side, bad bad bitches on my side
Haters trippin, they gon ride
Words to niggas, I ain't gon lie

So fly I need wings
Half a stack with these jeans
Half a stack on this belt
Spendin problem, I need help
Two stacks on these shows
Three stacks on this book
With 4 stacks on this mo
Guess who back up in this ho

Guess who back up in this ho
Guess who back up in this ho

All my real bitches still with me
The fake hoes have left me
Well fuck all ya'll too, tell your new nigga come test me
Real bitches still with me, cause real niggas get stoned
And I'm too whipped my nigga
Guess who back up in this ho

Now watch me get it, watch me get it, tell me
Not a neighbor but I'm rolling on me big wheels
Those pipes, never stop for no light
Saved up cuz I know Christ
A new Mack 10 and this fo life

Who bang like a word to rykers
I'm thinking flipper, she thinking wifey
She thinking lobster, I'm thinking whitey
She wasn't with me in that studio, Rio

Real shit, that's real shit
Fake ho get real bitch
I need a real one I could bear with
Jada Pinkett to my Will Smith
Think fast, sick ways
Fat ass, clean teeth
Face made for TV
Could pay her own shit and don't need me

Still dawg, I cash out
There to see what my cash ‘bout
Let us see what my rag ‘bout
Turn ‘er loose til that ass down
Never set a new fur
She never lifted up dough
She wanna sex up my role
Guess who back up in this ho

Guess who back up in this ho
Guess who back up in this ho

All my real bitches still with me
The fake hoes have left me
Well fuck all ya'll too, tell your new nigga come test me
Real bitches still with me, cause real niggas get stoned
And I'm too whipped my nigga
Guess who back up in this ho