Back End Lyrics - Rich Homie Quan

30 thousand for a Jesus piece, I put that on yo' head 

Freddy Krueger don't scare me no more, them boys will bite you in that bed 

Talk to God before I eat, and end it off with a "Amen" 

I don't care how tired I get, I'ma still run up them bands 

I'ma still count up my back end, I'ma still do it for my fam 

Just because I got a lil' money, that do not define the person I am 

I don't give a fuck about what the critics say, I'ma stack it up for them papers 

I clocked in, like I'm workin' 

I ain't have to sell my soul, it ain't worth it 

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Sold out, sold out, now I'm mad 

We done sold out, it's a hold out, hold out on them bags 

We gon' roll 'bout 1 something, 4 of y'all, 2 in the van 

I don't care what that money do, I'ma blow this shit like a fan 

RIP to my nigga Shawty Lo, I'm still walking 'round feeling like the man 

Commissary goin' out on Sunday, gotta make sure I still got a plan 

Talk to my girl on Monday, on the phone with my hands in my pants 

Walking around with my hand on my ear 'cause I ain't heard a word that they saying 

Niggas talk about what they gon' do, rubber bands still around that paper 

Overdue for some new music, might as well put it out for my haters 

Niggas talkin' hard, know they can't stop me, I'm in that front yard with them choppers 

I'll do whatever for my partner, I hit the jewelry store with 

Photos 

30 thousand for a Jesus piece, I put that on yo' head 

Freddy Krueger don't scare me no more, them boys will bite you in that bed 

Talk to God before I eat, and end it off with a "Amen" 

I don't care how tired I get, I'ma still run up them bands 

I'ma still count up my back end, I'ma still do it for my fam 

Just because I got a lil' money, that do not define the person I am 

I don't give a fuck about what the critics say, I'ma stack it up for them papers 

I clocked in, like I'm workin' 

I ain't have to sell my soul, it ain't worth it 

Nigga lurkin', cell phone, no service 

Tent on the car, not working, so I had to close them curtains (Ooooh) 

Pulled up in something they ain't never heard of 

I ain't seen no caution tape, but the whole scene I murdered 

(Woooo) Lying to me, I'm used to bitches 

Watching out who I'm talking to, cause a lot of niggas, they superstitious 

Dirty pots, cause I used the dishes 

40 Glock, keep it in my britches 

50 shots of them big bullets, that lil' nigga might need stitches 

That big body, I lean in it 

That drop top selling fiends in it 

And I ain't gotta wear a suit everyday to show a nigga I mean business 

With all this lean, I need a kidney 

Why the lil' boy goin' so hard? 

You tellin' on me, you the real 12 

You lame as hell like a Soap Opera 

30 thousand for a Jesus piece, I put that on yo' head 

Freddy Krueger don't scare me no more, them boys will bite you in that bed 

Talk to God before I eat, and end it off with a "Amen" 

I don't care how tired I get, I'ma still run up them bands 

I'ma still count up my back end, I'ma still do it for my fam 

Just because I got a lil' money, that do not define the person I am 

I don't give a fuck about what the critics say, I'ma stack it up for them papers 

I clocked in, like I'm workin' 

I ain't have to sell my soul, it ain't worth it