heat check - babytron lyrics
[intro]
yeah, you know who it is
sh*ttyboyz lieutenant, it’s babytron
man, y’all can’t f*ck with us
this sh*t too easy, i swear to god
man, i’m the blue strip stackin’, blue slip smackin’, who this rapping*ass n*gga?
man, i’m the goat with this sh*t, i swear to god i am
turn me up, stan
sh*ttyboyz
[verse]
had the school rocking, you can go and ask the teachers
i was at every game thrusted in the bleachers
you better be sweet as h*ll, asking for a feature
i don’t throw hands but clay’ll hit you with a sleeper
i put my pain in the booth, you put in a blunt
you put your trust in a b*tch, i put it in a dump
robins with the glitter, i’ma fly if i jump
seven*hundred for the sneakers, [?] tripping like i’m drunk
b*tch sweet with the head, made my knees buckle
thunder with me, i’m not kd, i can’t leave russell
name hold weight, my skinny ass ain’t need muscle
askin’ for a what? i bet you ain’t seen hustle
you punch phones but you still text with green bubbles
if me and stan hit the site, i bet the cheese double
punch, punch, punch, i d*mn near broke three knuckles
been on my sh*t, it’s been a minute since i seen struggle
the way y’all n*ggas fronting, y’all deserve the cap emoji
and you gon’ get sent up top, ain’t no scr*pping, homie
feel like i’m clank ’cause a n*gga keep that ratchet on me
b*tch booty little but her p*ssy sound like macaroni
bro ot with it, you ain’t seen jeff
tryna meet up, lil’ dawg, you gon’ meet death
talkin’ sh*t to big kev’, you gon’ catch a mean left
bro gon’ keep shooting ’til he miss, that’s a heat check
[?], so it’s hard to steer it
and if you ever upped designer, it was off of clearance
and if it ain’t the man above then i ain’t gon’ fear it
so run up on tip, i’ma turn you to a spirit
weak*ass fit, can’t believe you dropped that pic’
next time you drop that b*tch, at least drop a fit
and if i catch him out in traffic, i’ma rock the whip
caution cone in saks, they gon’ have to mop the drip
hustle dna, if it’s a jugg, i’ma bust it
i done seen some dirt from some people i done trusted
you gon’ probably drown in the drip, i’m so thrusted
the blues gon’ come, baby, ain’t no need to rush it
she was just on d*ck but she swear that she wasn’t
i don’t know dawg but he swear that we cousins
that’s how it go when yo’ name out here buzzing
shut the f*ck up, b*tch, i’m finna put it in your stomach
texting off an email, get some service on yo’ phone
you haven’t bust a jugg, boy, you purpin’ to the hoes
it ain’t the draft combine but i’m searching for the pro’s
two shipments came, b*tch, i’m splurging on the clothes
you can come and test me but you gon’ fail, bro
you thought she was a dub? she’s an l though
you can’t swim in this drip, bro, you need a sailboat
“babytron, can you put me on?” h*ll no
you had who shook? b*tch, i ain’t got time to hide
your b*tch is not a ten, go ahead and minus five
on my chill sh*t, dawgy off the ninety*five
jugg all day, your dirty ass work a nine to five
i’ll scam your great granny, i don’t really give a f*ck
if her credit card hittin’, she gon’ give it up
bro popped another perc’, he wasn’t lit enough
and if she see me in the booth, guarantee she give it up
the jugg put his trust in me like a sixers fan
[?] every day, you can call me mister scam
got his ass noodled, you can come and get yo’ mans
you got no hustle on your plate, you need to fix your plan
balenci’s wack as h*ll, them b*tches look like [?]
claiming that you solid but your name was on paper
we been up on the opps, f*ck a tie breaker
bro’ll pull up and drop a hundred like myplayer
if bro pick you then we roll him like a two on two
aiming in the sky, you gon’ f*ckin’ shoot the moon
d*ck biting, if i dropped sketchers, you would do it too
but f*ck that, i’m flashy dawg, i’d rather do the loubs
you up straight dubs, b*tch, i’d rather do the blues
your weed man gets fronted only if you do
and if i fail some sh*t, i’m on my way to the booth
babytron, i’m the goat, b*tch, but you knew that too
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