BabyTron

Ayee!
(Whew) Hey, playin' with my pop, you think I'm makin' Kool-Aid (Ayy) Ayy, all he do is take L's, I'ma call him Mr. Cool J (Hey) Hey, designer swim trunks on stage, you would've thought it was a pool day (Hey, hey) Hey, I been drinkin' juice straight, fucked around and caught a toothache (Hey, hey) Hey, if that bag get put on you, it's your job to meet that due date (Hey, Hey) Ayy, hoodie reads "Hellstar," but the shoelaces say "Shoelace" (Ayy, ayy) Ayy, sayin' that the site dead, think you need to find a new base (Hey, hey) Hey, I ain't worried 'bout the hate, every day, I wake up, do great Out in traffic, belt equipped, you know that's just the law Would've thought I'm granny, free as hell is what a whoopin' cost Cuddy took a loss cookin' raw, but he shook it off Boy, you know it cost to be the boss, you probably shouldn't talk, this a money convo Pop out with a drum, eighty incendiaries, twenty hollows Doggy bone my son, he seen me do it, I bet buddy follow I ain't worried if the route hot, 'cause this punch Diablo, tuh You ain't did nothin' with 'em, keep your wise words Cat badge all up on the side, it make wide turns Boy, I had a dub before I started growin' sideburns Shippin' big packs, Titanic, my kit an iceberg For most people, them be fightin' words, for me, they dyin' words Heard they said I still ain't got it, shit, it ain't no "I" in hurt Had a dollar and a dream, now I'm signin' shirts Shit, you better have the cheese on you tryna buy a verse The man, the myth, the legend Letras de cancionesUnky said he need some grams, the mix, a blender Need to open up the geek kit, fix my temper What the fuck's a wintertime grind? Been on it since September I might pop out with three hundred, R.I.P. Fredo Santana Block hot as hell, fast whips, Dracos, bandanas Porsche Panamera, oldheads had they era Went around the world and seen it, now I'm back to McNamara Off-White tee with graffiti, it look vandalized Metal on me, blowin' zotty, lookin' like a samurai Gold 41 with chocolate face, Ferrero Rocher Shit, I'm runnin' to the top, you probably stare at the stairs Let the fifty-rounder off, could probably scare off a bear Think she that, only a seven when she wearin' some hair Shoot the 40, watch it bounce around like Harrison Barnes Think it's foreign off the look, this an American car Ain't got love for you boys, ain't no sparrin' with y'all He ain't never hit a shot, would throw a dart in the wall Huh, I cannot really relate, we be bull's-eyein' Know that they gon' charge him as a minor, young bull silent Bullets look like egg rolls, he lucky he had duck sauce You can learn a thousand lessons off of one loss (Hey, SBDSM, long live $cam, ayy) Hey, playin' with my pop, you think I'm makin' Kool-Aid (Hey) (Hey, all he do is take L's, I'ma call him Mr. Cool J) (Hey) Hey, designer swim trunks on stage, you would've thought it was a pool day (Hey, hey) (Hey, I been drinkin' juice straight, fucked around and caught a toothache) (Hey, hey) Hey, if that bag get put on you, it's your job to meet that due date (Hey, Hey) (Ayy, hoodie reads "Hellstar," but the shoelaces say "Shoelace") (Ayy, ayy) Ayy, sayin' that the site dead, think you need to find a new base (Hey, hey) (Hey, I ain't worried 'bout the hate, every day, I wake up, do great) (Every day, I wake up, do great regardless what they say, you know?) From Letras Mania