[Lyric] 61 to 39 II (Baby Jace)

[Verse]
And I got all this heat, and I'm boutta melt you with it
But when you try to spit the heat then all you hear is crickets
Pulled her over when I was a cop and gave her ass a ticket
So I could suck on them titties and then get her fucking digits
They said "Baby Jace, you can't rap, so can you just quit it?"
You know I'm doing better than you bitch, so just admit it
All these pussy ass niggas still play with fidget spinners
They asked "Baby Jace made part 2?"
Hell yeah, he did it
Cuz my nigga Miles Bridges bout to go off as a rookie
She said she got a man, but these niggas still looking
I'm in thе clutch like James Harden, now look niggas, I'm cooking
I thought thеy were good looking, but their face is so damn crooked
Cuz the first girl, she wanted to be friends
Moved on to the second bae
The second girl, she blocked me
Like Mutombo on the Nuggets
Third girl, since the 5th grade
Damn man I wanted to hit
The fourth girl, she a hypocrite
I just went on and said fuck that bitch
Cuz I'm making them big bucks like I was from Milwaukee
All these girls some real fakes, they playing with my emotions
Swimming in yo girl pussy like we up the ocean
Pacific, Atlantic, you name it, her man ain't gon' notice
This L, better hold it
My game is cold like a snowman
I won't bow down to no man
Cuz she walked in the club with no pants
Cuz I'm whippin' like OBJ, dabbin' like Cam
Salsa like Victor, you catching these hands
I'm looking at X like who is your mans?
We can't even see your dick in your pants, like damn
It's Baby Jace in this bitch
I'm never fucking with a snitch
She fucking with other niggas, now she got my heart blue like the crips
I do not give a fuck bout what she did
I'm rich forever, I feel like Jay Critch
Hitting some shots, but I'm not hitting licks
They keep hitting you and you boutta have kids
You posting shit for the homies?
That hoe shit is just whack now
You talking bout shawty bad?
A bitch thinking that she black now
You hitting niggas with the star eyes
Ryan got an and-one, right?
You keep on fucking Young Life, but I'm living my best life
61/39, 61/39
I speak that true shit but you lil bitch niggas keep lying
But I don't give no shits bout you cuz I'm still on my grind
Tell these hoes get off my cloud because they hating on my rhymes, yeah
Nothing, nothing
You ain't scaring nothing
You end our streak at 91, I call you Dennis Rodman
I'm rocking niggas like a robin
I'm shooting threes, Joe Johnson
And if niggas tryi to snap, I'll catch a body like I'm Doug Baldwin, bitch
Might take a flight to Beijing
My dick is a tower like Yao Ming
I'm so fly, better open my wings
To be a friend like Chandler Bing
Now I admit it man, you can sing
But I'm moving on to better things
That junior wanted a wedding ring
So I gotta ask, is this your King?
[Chorus]
61/39 (part 2)
61/39 (part 2)
61/39 (part 2)
61/39 (yeah)
How you gon' end our streak?
You had to wait just nine
But I ain't gon' cry
Cuz I'm getting lit like the 4th of July (pow)
61/39 (part 2)
61/39 (part 2)
61/39 (part 2)
61/39 (yeah)
How you gon' end our streak?
You had to wait just nine
But I ain't gon' cry
Cuz I'm getting lit like the 4th of July, yuh!