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day in ferndale - babytron lyrics

[intro]
(ayo, mark a!)

[verse]
loose cannon and wealthy shoppin’, i’m in ferndale
[?] you still scramblin’ tryna [?]
was loadin’ bitcoin, always missed the first bell
winnin’ now, still humble from my first l
winnin’ now, turned my first l into a lession
shootin’ down south for that sack like a houston, texas
ten moves ahead, checkmate, catch me louis steppin’
time for a third charm, you know hutch gon’ do the pendant
cartier’s on, buffed up, b*tch, i’m heavy pressin’
doggy hit the crib f*cked up, blowin’ reggie, stressin’
who the f*ck your jeweler is? tuck that petty necklace
thousand dollar kicks, you see me wit ’em then i bet he stеppin’
i just walk into the booth and tell you how i’m livin’
you a superhеro to the hoes, i’m chillin’ ’round the villains
thought i lost my mind, was lookin’ for it, then i found some chicken
lamb’ truck in cali, catch me playin’ out of town ridiculous
6 of wocky, drop it in a red ruby squirt
pocket full of pape’, my friends dead like i’m uzi vert
leavin’ [?], i had to up my gucci shirt
b*tch said three words when she see me, “ooh, he turnt”
said four words back like, “b*tch, you kinda ugly”
heard bein’ broke a joke but i ain’t never find it funny
i just wake my ass up and go and find some money
fourteen hundred on the kicks, the soles kinda bl**dy
charged up, got my b*tch cookin’ up like bulma
unc’y doin’ turnaround with them “what*you*call*its”
when i was down, they ain’t answer, now they’ll know i’ll never call ’em
stackin’ up leashes for these hoes ’cause you know i dog ’em
hit the corner store, you know i got a everfresh
sb, dsm, b*tch, we forever steppin’
tryna wrestle? i got somethin’ that’s gon’ end the wrestlin’
pack*a*punch the ar*15, this a special weapon
i might go ot and never come back
lil freak b*tch, i’m in her walls like a thumbtack
talkin’ bout, “he upped some dogsh*t,” he need that one cap
heard they stuck, can’t relate, i’m finna run laps
designer bag full of sh*t, pull it out and act a ass
late night slidin’, rifle got a flash attached
fraud guy, walkin’ out of chase with a bag of cash
i don’t sell weed but when i do, i’m mr. tax*his*ass
[outro]
huh, aye, sh*tty boyz
(hold on, i’m ’bout to come in)
(ayo, mark a!)

- babytron lyrics

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