TyFlyy - BABE RUTH

Ayy.. ayy.
Aye, no friends, I'm countin' these Benjamin's alone in the coupe
She get chills, when my music come on in the whip, cuz my shit the truth
Til I got mil's, & my fam out the trenches, I lace up my boots
A robber get killed, start swingin' the stick around like Babe Ruth
This shit get real, gotta flip that shit, gotta turn a 1 to 2
Think I'ma die out on some Flyy shit, that's what I was born to do
My scars, they healed, I be lyin' if I said it ain't hurt, I'ma tell you the truth
Aye, lil' bald-headed bitch, she pretty like she Betty Boop
Smooth talker, the way I slick talk a bitch, think I'm pimpin' and shit
New Wock, I'm poppin' the seal, I'm mixin' it purple or pink
She wanna come with the guys, cuz she know that we them niggas
If I stood on my money right now, I'd be somewhere near the ceilin
Watch the way you sip my cup, lil baby, you know it's exotic
He FaceTime shorty, flexin' his money, bein' obnoxious
Boy, you need to stop it, chop make you dance like Spotemgotem
She wanna take a photoshoot with me inside my closet
She know I'm Flyy, lil' baby, you know that I'm a pilot
Chop a do the math, these niggas do not want no problems
Louis Vuitton belt buckle, Balenciaga wallet
Sometimes I feel like 50, I'ma get rich or die tryin
Sometimes I feel like 50, but these niggas the ones get shot
Glrr, Grah, She ask why it make that sound
Bitch, this ain't no trap, this is a gate, move in and out
Baby, hit my line like 'Flyy, when you comin' back around?'
Aye, no friends, I'm countin' these Benjamin's alone in the coupe
She get chills, when my music come on in the whip, cuz my shit the truth
Til I got mil's, & my fam out the trenches, I lace up my boots
A robber get killed, start swingin' the stick around like Babe Ruth
Swingin' the stick around like Babe Ruth

Written by:
Tyshawn Seymour

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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