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[Intro:] (Turn up, Rittz!) Shut up, bitch! [Hook:] Light the weed, we gon burn that shit down Lifted on the beat, bout to murder it now Word on the street, you been running your mouth Turn up on me, Imma turn that bitch down Tryna turn up on me, Imma turn that bitch down Turn up on me, Imma turn that bitch down Tryna turn up on me, Imma turn that bitch down Turn up on me, Imma turn that bitch down Tryna turn up on me [Verse 1:] Rittz, White Jesus, back for the second coming Second time around I keep it extra slummy Fuck what you repping, your record's crumby For the check, I’ve been a grill, I’m feeling extra hungry Too much of a veteran to ever let you slum me Better check the rep, and plus I rep my county Way before Gwinnett was ever called the north side Ain’t no way to argue with this shit, respect it homie On the web, these punks be making threats to jump me Taking pictures with your weapon, you flexing on me Letras de cancionesRetros on, watch out where you stepping, clumsy I ain’t got a lot to lose, really next to nothing And I’m beginning to feel like I'm a black guy That’s why I guess I got a bunch of ghetto ass white bitches tryna tat my Name up on their titty, keep on turning up and one of them will give a bitch a black eye [Hook] [Verse 2:] Turn up, turn up All they ever say is turn up They know me all around the world, Australia to Europe There’s levels to this shit, and I’m a different caliber of MC, and you the kind nobody ever heard of Don’t try to play the lead, I Hannibal a murder, murder Come out the stirrup, serve up these rappers solo cup Pour some sprite and some syrup You’re drunk, let’s shoot a bird up They need an article of me in the Atlanta Journal Constitution, pay homage to me, they should paint a mural Of me on 85, my shit is a brochure of Gwinnett, respect the way I did it and didn’t switch up a minute The nerve of these haters, some of them deserve a Beating, you couldn’t touch it if you wanted to, like you're a Germaphobic taking over shit, and then I’m sure of Determination, what you mad I made it? better cheer up It’s bloody murder every time I burn up, cause like [Hook] [Verse 3:] Two years in a row I got skipped on the freshman cover Got me feeling some type of way And I ain’t hating on the rappers they picked, but I’m on the Atlanta tour Selling records, no competition inside my lane Up at the hip hop awards, killed the cypher Paved the way for Gwinnett County, bitch you know I’m Slum You can listen to my first album And see where some of these double time rappers got their whole style from Nobody’s talking shit about me cause they know I’ll come And turn em down, I’m not a rapper to show out on And Clientele was the crew that I grew up with But even if I was alone, outgunned, I’d still call you a bitch I’m pissed and far from rich Still crawling on the bottom and I solemnly swear I had White Jesus in my crockpot before Ross said walking on air Bout to light the [Hook] From Letras Mania