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"Back At The Ranch" lyrics by MAURICE BROWN
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[a.k.a. MOBETTA]

"Back At The Ranch"
[feat. Jean Grae]

[Intro: Jean Grae]
Everybody wanna do cool shit
But don't nobody wanna do fool shit
Good, smart choice; better shut your mouth
Cause you don't really wanna fuck with them veterans now

[Hook: Jean Grae]
I don't care
Really on my mean
We gonna be
Creeping on the lean
Really wanna be
The supreme beings
Meanwhile, back at the ranch
You ain't the type

I told you that they didn't want none
These motherfuckers better run, son
I told them all to keep their fame on the portal
Get the fuck up out the border
You don't really wanna fuck with me

[Verse 1: Jean Grae]
This is four-four immaculate
Bragging the last
Man with a brass hammer-fist
Man with a fantabulous
Grammy or not - you amateurs
Believe me or not, embarrass you
Caring? I'm not; appearing on beats with no parameters
Perimeters to limit us, forgiving us for y'all
It's ridiculous to think of us thinking of you at all
H-E-double hockey sticks, and stick 'em in your craw
I'm MJ jheri curl, bitch I'm off the wall
They been off that, I live in y'alls laptop
Black rock, pop-rap, fill in all the boxes, stat
You'd be dumb to think that you'd be filling in my box of cat
If you ain't even filling out your boxes - that's wrong, black
Long black Marlboro, sipping on some cognac
Han Solo donning a sombrero - man, come on, toro (Zorro)
Throwing three z's on your boring mumbro steez
And Jean's sleeve rips the rose off all your sorrows
Leave it alone; I'm even evil on my beats alone
Increase 'em with Tariq
You even need a priest to beat the demons gone
Motherfucker had to sneak in on a speakerphone
Leaking over speak; you think, when me and Jeannie be alone?
Hate me, love me; kid, your hate's ugly
Fates trace, sucker; your face was traced sloppy
I stay shit-talking to slam in your bitch rapping
I ain't hear nothing from nobody; quit slacking


[Verse 2: Mobetta]
See, I'm a bad motherfucker
Forget them other suckers
We the ones in the club
That the show start the ruckus
You're hating yourself like you name is Uncle Ruckus
And so watching the clock so my boom-bim dies
You can catch me on the grind, cause I put in that work
While these other motherfuckers standing in a circle jerk
I'm feeling myself real high, no homo
Hitting light-speed while the rest is moving in slo-mo gear
My plate's full, but I can really squeeze in four more
Bitch, stop playing - got this game in a chokehold
Not trying to boast, but I do it better than most
You lie in bed with me, I turn sheets to ghost
My name ring real loud from coast to coast
You're in my house, and I'm your host
So take off your shoes, and hand me your coats
So take off your shoes, and hand me your coats
Spectacular, suck blood like Dracula
Huff, huff and I'll puff, smack the shit out of ya
Like, how bout it? We niggas is bout it, bout it
Tear some shit up in the club, next day you'll read about it
I can't believe you tried to stunt on me
You in back of me, how could you ever front on me?
It's a lot like you was only wanting me
You probably won't understand this because you're under me


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