Lyrics of 'Gutta Back' by Ace Hood

They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back
They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back
They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back
They want that gutta' back, want that gutta' back

Broward County boss, yeah I said that
Fresh up out that Porsche, like where that work at?
Tell my mama that I got us, never turning back
Bitch I run my city, I'm just doing laps
Whole hood hating, say a nigga changed
Right around that time, the real money came
Oh well, different city, hotels
Plenty paper bitches pulling on my coat tails
You're the bad economy, they're dropping your sales
Shit ain't what it used to be, shout out to fish scale
Shout out them real Zo's, shout out my bad hoes
One for you broke bitches, better get your grind on
Word on the street they're praying on my down fall
You niggas bitches, reason why I stay from round y'all
Smell the money from a mile, like a hound dog
Balling every year, they just call me John Wall

Broward County boss, yeah I said that
In case you forgot, I brought that line back
In case you forgot, I put that on the map
Ready for war, [?] raps
Still strapped with that hammer, bad bitch from Atlanta
Still talking that shit, I'm young Tony Montana
What you mad for, cause I came up
Still real and ain't changed up
Came through in that Range truck
Diamonds shining like what the fuck
You still talking that dumb shit, talking bout what you gonna do
Talking about when you gonna blow, nigga man I'm twenty-four
I done been there what you trying to do, been places you trying to go
Compared fools to them great views and them [?] holes that I ran through
I was seventeen when I first signed, same day that my city rise
Six figures, no compromise
Only nigga who televised
Fuck the niggas who selling lies
Fuck them hoes who was never round
Finna' got for that nine to five
Keep the roll and my window down

I say now bitch get on to my level ho
Eighty grand for my Rollie' though
Fucked the bitch and that pussy soaked
Finna' work but you finna' choke
Fuck the fool with those funny loaf
Fuck you talking bout before
Send a shot through your front door
Signed, sealed no envelope
I said hood nigga from the twenty ho
Deuce, deuce when that Chevy roll
Real nigga come flick up, acting tough cause you clicked up
My youngest be on some fuck shit, bang bang's and that bitch clicked
Seven chains where my neck be, with a thick bitch in the back seat
I say fuck us all with that pussy, twenty K for my bookie
Fifty round in my chopper, Jumping out of that bucket
Say real nigga getting money, my top down when it's sunny
From [?] to them big M's, we still local I take trips, gone