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241 - babytron & babyfxce e lyrics

[part i]

[intro: babytron]
(enrgy made this one)
woo, hey
long live $cams
smdsm, t*double*h*l
you know

[verse 1: babytron]
b*tch, i grew up in the jungle with the animals
wock’ mixed with crush, cup thick like a danimal
b*tch popped a ten and tried to eat me like a cannibal
backdoor season, they ain’t know it was retractable
jeffin’ like you jam, dcin’ like the capitol
quarter of the boomies, everything feeling magical
hundred oranges, she ain’t pop ’em, though, they in her v*g*n*l
dog sh*t militia, when it’s warfare, we tactical
let my white boy test thе work, he said it’s radical
ain’t no numbers in them columns, you ain’t valuablе
tryna stuff a hundred in these jeans, bein’ irrational
god strike me down if i ain’t in here speakin’ factual, sh*tty boyz

[verse 2: babyfxce e]
if the lil’ b*tch goin’, i can’t get mad at you (n*gga)
i left brodie at the crib ’cause he too fast to shoot (yup)
i think i need a leaf bag, them turkey bags is through
walk in with a goyard on my back, the birkin bag for you if you play it right (huh)
it’s glow sights on the glock 9 so we can play at night
it’s recommended you get a feat’ from me, this b*tch’ll change your life
40 on me, not no wd, this b*tch’ll change your bike
if your team ain’t got no dub yet, you need to change your five
oh, sh*t, i think i just f*cked up (yeah)
was ‘posed to sell this drank, but i poured it in my cup (d*mn)
i had to make a hundred thousand, forty ain’t enough (at all)
fifi ain’t get pulled over with them yops, but forty in her gut, she a stuffer
made ’em buy the smitty over the glock, said that b*tch was rougher
the gun jammed and dog an opp, man, his ass a buster
i done caught up to you n*ggas, got tired of bein’ mustard
i bought a century arms k, got tired of all them russians
[verse 3: babytron]
i was f*ckin’ on that sl*t while you was callin’ cussin’
you can’t give fifty percent, this sh*t all or nothin’
wanna make a zombie, get some work, take some naw and cut it
cut a branch from the family tree, we just offed his cousin
stash five thousand andrew jacks, that’s a tall hundred
three of quaggy*aggy, feel like i just tapped the pause b*tton
heard you hit that runner, off a hug, you could’ve caught somethin’
it could be the ‘site or the booth, we can talk punches
caught an opp out, excuse my french, i had to fry his ass
doggy got his kit on, someone grab the magnifying glass

[verse 4: babyfxce e]
bro got a kit with no bl!ck, i’m finna try his ass
take a n*gga ice off his wrist, see if our sizes match
don’t drive slow down this block, ’cause you could die for that
don’t ask to sip my d*mn pop, i paid the high for that
you’ll never see my d*mn glock, he too shy for that
he seen his car on my snapchat, i made him buy it back

[part ii]

[intro: babyfxce e]
(damjonboi)
yeah
it’s with an x, n*gga
fxce
[verse: babyfxce e & babytron]
i’m locked in with the reaper like i’m billy or somethin’
i’m a g.o.a.t., my mama should’ve named me billy or somethin’
seven figures worth of game, i feel like wallo and gillie
this b*tch ain’t good for sh*t unless it’s swallowin’ glizzy
brodie sent a hundred shots, i’m finna follow with fifty
b*tch said she might be pregnant, i made her swallow this henny
crunch it down and turn his taco to some nachos with switchy
i ain’t gettin’ groceries, lil’ b*tch, i’m shoppin’ for giffies
it’s summertime, so rap bars and h*llcats is all i sell
i did a feature and eyeballed a verse ’cause i ain’t had no scale
b*tch, you want a job? go grab the mail
tryna race in that scat, watch this h*llcat prevail
woke up at one, ’cause i don’t really f*ck with 12
boys probably think i’m mexican, ’cause they keep pickin’ up my sh*lls
mobile banking glitching up, i got a thirty stuck on zelle
life been heavenly lately, just know i had enough h*ll
i done had enough of all this sh*t
i knew that i was gon’ be rich, i should’ve called that sh*t
f*ck around, get pistol whipped, you don’t unball your fist
we just found that night job, finna stalk your shift
we already stole that n*gga ‘cat, i’m finna dog his b*tch
i just beat her off a pack, she tryna call it quits
when they put me in that room, i acted like i lost my lips
overdid the stilpane, let me call my lift
let me call my b*tch, f*ck, i drank up all the trish
i didn’t used to like that sh*t, i think i found my itch
givin’ flavors smell tests, like, “sh*t, how much a pound of this?”
we been up for so long, forgot that down exist
yeah, my hands crampin’, finna throw this sh*t up in the money counter
thought he was connected with some cubans, sent him funny powder
if he buy that sh*t with all quarters, then he an unky probably
lil’ pretty b*tch, all i want is sucky*f*cky out her
the little b*tch p*ssy good, but i don’t really give a f*ck about her
doggy got the ho in front of jury, put the cuffs around her
i say f*ck your honor
my mans a drankhead, can’t even leave my cup around him
they tried to set some b00by traps, but i just snuck around ’em
these some geobaskets, ’cause you can’t rock no chucks around me
if you a pit’, then why your tail always tucked around me?
pull off in the trx, you think my brother got you
you been in your hustle bag? don’t let the summer stop you
keep your chains tucked, ’cause cuddy, he’d love to rob you
he’d love to k!ll you, n*gga, you won’t never feel me
banana clip up on the drac’, so you will never peel me
witchcraft with wocky, pourin’ potion, prayin’ that it heal me
plug sent a couple bricks, he shaquille o’nealed me
spent three thousand on a jacket ’cause it was gettin’ chilly
done beat the road down from oregon to mississippi
[outro: babytron]
sh*tty boyz, dog sh*t militia
long live $cammer
what’s the deal, e?

- babytron babyfxce e lyrics

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