[Intro]
(Marc Boomin, this you?)
Bitch
Yeah, huh, bitch
(Boomin need extras)
[Verse]
I just dropped twenty-four songs and I'm still rapping
Firework Faygo got a four, but I'm still active
BabyTron? Oh, I heard the labels throwing deals at him
Best scammer in the city, bitch, I'm Tronny Kilpatrick
You won't catch me riding 'round in traffic, this some limo tint
Up now, all that little shit, I don't trip on it
Up the stick and make doggy crouch on some limbo shit
Riding 'round with Teejay the sleazy, Mister Flip Your Whip
Or I could pull up with Ju the sleaze, he Mister Split Your Shit
That's your pops' watch, ain't it? It don't fit your wrist
First you need to stop hating, then come get your bitch
Got her eating balls on some Hungry Hungry Hippo shit
In a class of my own, but I ain't special ed'
Do the dash in the Christian Loubies, left the pedal red
Played it crazy, told her give me pape' instead of head
Keep a demon on my side for whatever the Devil send
Count up my blessings and I'm finna count these hundreds
Mozzarella on your taco shell, killers bounty hunting
Playing with a punch, looking for glitches, I done found me something
You calling 'cause I got some pape', why you tryna hound me, cousin?
That's the trophies clanking
Guarantee my shot going in like when Kobe fading
Everybody tapped the fuck in, I just know we made it (Ha-ha, yeah, we going up, bitch)
One stick, one fit, boy, that's you
BabyTron the GOAT with this shit, boy, that's true
Talking 'bout you gon' take what? Boy, on who?
Looking in the mirror like, "Damn, that boy the truth"
Zaza to the face, this Apricot Gelato
I ain't threw hands in five years, you finna box these hollows
Twenty Dracs in the 'Wood, the coupe like a box of frontos
Told the bitch, "Don't even suck it if you not gon' swallow"
Cotton candy Faygo with a deuce of Hi-Tech
On a world tour, where the fuck I'm finna fly next? (Like, Honolulu, or, shit)
On a world tour, grabbing iPhones and gift cards
2012 Pros out the door got my dick hard
Said he got a band for a verse, boy, that's six bars
Ask my whole high school class, bitch, I drip hard
Ask my whole high school class, they can't fuck with me
At this point, it's all hustle, ain't no luck in me
If I hear it's up, boy, you ain't gon' wanna jump with me
Bitch, I just want the head, I ain't got a hump in me
Walked up into Hutch a ShittyBoy, left a Tity Boi
Good drum on this— it's a fifty, boy
Oh, you got a hundred shots? Better pray you hit me, boy
[Outro]
Yeah, I got it with it me, boy
Yeah, I got it with it me, boy
Huh, yeah, I got it with it me, boy
Ayy, bitch, ayy, huh, yeah, bitch, I got it with me, boy, huh
(Marc Boomin, this you?)
Bitch
Yeah, huh, bitch
(Boomin need extras)
[Verse]
I just dropped twenty-four songs and I'm still rapping
Firework Faygo got a four, but I'm still active
BabyTron? Oh, I heard the labels throwing deals at him
Best scammer in the city, bitch, I'm Tronny Kilpatrick
You won't catch me riding 'round in traffic, this some limo tint
Up now, all that little shit, I don't trip on it
Up the stick and make doggy crouch on some limbo shit
Riding 'round with Teejay the sleazy, Mister Flip Your Whip
Or I could pull up with Ju the sleaze, he Mister Split Your Shit
That's your pops' watch, ain't it? It don't fit your wrist
First you need to stop hating, then come get your bitch
Got her eating balls on some Hungry Hungry Hippo shit
In a class of my own, but I ain't special ed'
Do the dash in the Christian Loubies, left the pedal red
Played it crazy, told her give me pape' instead of head
Keep a demon on my side for whatever the Devil send
Count up my blessings and I'm finna count these hundreds
Mozzarella on your taco shell, killers bounty hunting
Playing with a punch, looking for glitches, I done found me something
You calling 'cause I got some pape', why you tryna hound me, cousin?
That's the trophies clanking
Guarantee my shot going in like when Kobe fading
Everybody tapped the fuck in, I just know we made it (Ha-ha, yeah, we going up, bitch)
One stick, one fit, boy, that's you
BabyTron the GOAT with this shit, boy, that's true
Talking 'bout you gon' take what? Boy, on who?
Looking in the mirror like, "Damn, that boy the truth"
Zaza to the face, this Apricot Gelato
I ain't threw hands in five years, you finna box these hollows
Twenty Dracs in the 'Wood, the coupe like a box of frontos
Told the bitch, "Don't even suck it if you not gon' swallow"
Cotton candy Faygo with a deuce of Hi-Tech
On a world tour, where the fuck I'm finna fly next? (Like, Honolulu, or, shit)
On a world tour, grabbing iPhones and gift cards
2012 Pros out the door got my dick hard
Said he got a band for a verse, boy, that's six bars
Ask my whole high school class, bitch, I drip hard
Ask my whole high school class, they can't fuck with me
At this point, it's all hustle, ain't no luck in me
If I hear it's up, boy, you ain't gon' wanna jump with me
Bitch, I just want the head, I ain't got a hump in me
Walked up into Hutch a ShittyBoy, left a Tity Boi
Good drum on this— it's a fifty, boy
Oh, you got a hundred shots? Better pray you hit me, boy
[Outro]
Yeah, I got it with it me, boy
Yeah, I got it with it me, boy
Huh, yeah, I got it with it me, boy
Ayy, bitch, ayy, huh, yeah, bitch, I got it with me, boy, huh
( BabyTron )
www.ChordsAZ.com