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bread chasers - babytron & stanwill lyrics

[intro: babytron]
(d*mn, machu, why’d you have to do ’em like that?)
b*tch, ayy
yeah, ayy
skrrt

[verse 1: babytron]
b*tch, i’m finna blow the trans
b*tch, i’m finna blow his mans
modern*day pimp’ll smack a b*tch with an open hand
said the sh*ttyboyz broke, doggy must be smokin’ xans
off*white tee, off*white sneaks
gang back to back in yeezies, guess they all hypebeast
bad temper, keep it pushin’ when you walk by me
when i close my eyes, blue hundreds all i see
call of duty weapon, got an ar with a sh*ll catcher
ghost chili talker in the booth, boy, you a bell pepper
stay up in the crowd ’cause you ain’t really never felt prеssure
all the lines of rеd that i’m pourin’, need a spell checker

[verse 2: stanwill]
yeah, put some racks on him like serena, send him up to venus
stump an opp in fear of god kicks, send you up to meet him
bad hoes in srts, guess i’m stuck with demons
designered down, whippin’ racks out, she gon’ suck this p*n*s
yeah, lil’ rude*ass sh*t talkin’, rich f*cker
scamin’*ass 201, slidin’ drip puncher
never lackin’, i’ma trigger happy bl!ck clutcher
i should buy a f*ckin’ bra, the chop got some tits on it
drippin’*ass rich f*ck, mike amiri swim trunks
we got hit sticks tucked, who the f*ck gon’ blitz us?
ksubi jeans ripped up, would never hear no r.i.p us
b*tch lookin’ like who is they? we the sh*t, duh
[verse 3: babytron]
ksubi jeans full of blue benjis, ain’t no ones inside
hitman sweatin’, balaclava in the summertime (yeah)
boy, your b*tch easy, that lil’ sl*t give me runner vibes
fully make him sleepy, think the chop sung a lullaby

[verse 4: stanwill]
hundred shots turned durango to a taco truck
hitman hispanic, if it’s that, call my vato up
eyeballin’ through them white sticks, i’ll pop your buffs
drew got the drac’ with the drum, b*tch, he bongo’ed up

[verse 5: babytron]
me and stan iced up, you could call us ben and jerry
eighty*dollar eighthy in this ‘wood, this some lemon cherry
load out, drac’ with the drum, glocky secondary
arguin’ with a b*tch ain’t necessary, they be temporary

[verse 6: stanwill]
we a task force, sticked up like the military
ain’t gon’ lie, this a hutch piece, ain’t get sh*t from gary
dead faces stuffed, ‘miris lookin’ like a cemetery
only need a b*tch to blow d*ck, we ain’t gettin’ married

[verse 7: babytron & stanwill]
pull up shootin’ like i’m [?], don’t know who to shoot her
askin’ if i’m up, that’s like askin’ if it’s b00bs at hooters
she ain’t truckin’ d*ck down her throat, chuckin’ the deuces to her
off*white belt long as h*ll, i’m a hoola*hooper
it sound like a lawnmower when he tried to zoom the shooter
usin’ o*benz, vpn on a new computer
you dribble b*lls, you don’t tote glocks, you ain’t shootin’ hoopers
b*tch a demon with that h*llcat, i rebuke the cooter
haha
leg up, think her coochie pooty
wake up, made two g’s, so i gucci shoot it
big*ass chopsticks, i’ll turn your crew to suey
bro a redneck, six shotter in a super duty
exotic fanta, eight of wockiana, b*tch, i’m super woozy
feel like i’m tony, i might f*ck around and do the uzi
that’s the glock, not my d*ck, b*tch, you tryna screw the toolie?
b*tch, i’m checked up and checkered down when i do the louis
checkmate, we some chess players
how the f*ck the bench rider turn into the best player?
got her ssn, like i’ll be back for some head later
b*tch left me on her respirator, she a breath taker
7.62s a chest caver, it’s a leg breaker
stabbin’ hoes in the face hole, i’ma head shanker
slide down and put him in a suit like he craig sager
.223s to his top, they some dread takers
i ain’t duckin’ sh*t, but best believe that i’m a bread chaser
rappin’ ’bout the ‘za, but we knowin’ you a reg’ facer
y’all boys ain’t even scored a bucket, y’all the bench players (d*mn, machu, why’d you have to do ’em like that?)
[outro: babytron & stanwill]
ayy, sh*ttyboyz
b*tch, dog sh*t militia
dog sh*t militia, b*tch

- babytron stanwill lyrics

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