BabyTron and Babyfxce E - 241

(Enrgy made this one)
Phew, hey
Long live $cams
SBDSM, T-double-H-L, you know (phew)

Bitch, I grew up in the jungle with the animals
Wock' mixed with Crush, cup thick like a Danimal
Bitch popped a ten and tried to eat me like a cannibal
Backdoor season, they ain't know it was retractable
Jeffin' like you jam, DCin' like the capitol
Quarter of the Boomies, everything feeling magical
Hundred oranges, she ain't pop 'em, though, they in her vaginal
Dog Shit Militia, when it's warfare, we tactical (ah)
Let my white boy test the work, he said it's radical (phew)
Ain't no numbers in them columns, you ain't valuable
Tryna stuff a hundred in these jeans, bein' irrational
God strike me down if I ain't in here speakin' factual, Shitty Boyz

If the lil' bitch goin', I can't get mad at you (nigga)
I left brodie at the crib 'cause he too fast to shoot (yup)
I think I need a leaf bag, them turkey bags is through
Walk in with a Goyard on my back, the Birkin bag for you if you play it right (huh)
It's glow sights on the Glock 9 so we can play at night
It's recommended you get a feat' from me, this bitch'll change your life
40 on me, not no WD, this bitch'll change your bike
If your team ain't got no dub yet, you need to change your five
Oh, shit, I think I just fucked up (yeah)
Was 'posed to sell this drank, but I poured it in my cup (damn)
I had to make a hundred thousand, forty ain't enough (at all)
Fifi ain't get pulled over with them yops, but forty in her gut, she a stuffer
Made 'em buy the Smitty over the Glock, said that bitch was rougher
The gun jammed and dog an opp, man, his ass a buster
I done caught up to you niggas, got tired of bein' mustard
I bought a Century Arms K, got tired of all them Russians

I was fuckin' on that slut while you was callin' cussin'
You can't give fifty percent, this shit all or nothin'
Wanna make a zombie, get some work, take some naw and cut it
Cut a branch from the family tree, we just offed his cousin
Stash five thousand Andrew Jacks, that's a tall hundred
Three of Quaggy-aggy, feel like I just tapped the pause button
Heard you hit that runner, off a hug, you could've caught somethin'
It could be the 'site or the booth, we can talk punches
Caught an opp out, excuse my French, I had to fry his ass
Doggy got his kit on, someone grab the magnifying glass

Bro got a kit with no blick, I'm finna try his ass
Take a nigga ice off his wrist, see if our sizes match
Don't drive slow down this block 'cause you could die for that
Don't ask to sip my damn pop, I paid the high for that
You'll never see my damn Glock, he too shy for that
He seen his car on my Snapchat, I made him buy it back

(Damjonboi)
Yeah
Switch
Fxce

I'm locked in with the reaper like I'm Billy or somethin'
I'm a G.O.A.T., my mama should've named me Billy or somethin'
Seven figures worth of game, I feel like Wallo and Gillie
This bitch ain't good for shit unless it's swallowin' glizzy
Brodie sent a hundred shots, I'm finna follow with fifty
Bitch said she might be pregnant, I made her swallow this Henny
Crunch it down and turn his taco to some nachos with switchy
I ain't gettin' groceries, lil' bitch, I'm shoppin' for giffies
It's summertime, so rap bars and Hellcats is all I sell
I did a feature and eyeballed a verse 'cause I ain't had no scale
Bitch, you want a job? Go grab the mail
Tryna race in that Scat, watch this Hellcat prevail
Woke up at one, 'cause I don't really fuck with 12
Boys probably think I'm Mexican, 'cause they keep pickin' up my shells
Mobile banking glitching up, I got a thirty stuck on Zelle
Life been heavenly lately, just know I had enough of Hell
I done had enough of all this shit
I knew that I was gon' be rich, I should've called that shit
Fuck around, get pistol-whipped, you don't unball your fist
We just found that night job, finna stalk your shift
We already stole that nigga 'Cat, I'm finna dog his bitch
I just beat her off a pack, she tryna call it quits
When they put me in that room, I acted like I lost my lips
Overdid the Stilpane, let me call my lift
Let me call my bitch, fuck, I drank up all the Trish
I didn't used to like that shit, I think I found my itch
Givin' flavors smell tests, like, "Shit, how much a pound of this?"
We been up for so long, forgot that down exist
Yeah, my hands crampin', finna throw this shit up in the money counter
Thought he was connected with some Cubans, sent him funny powder
If he buy that shit with all quarters, then he an unky probably
Lil' pretty bitch, all I want is sucky-fucky out her
The little bitch pussy good, but I don't really give a fuck about her
Doggy got the ho in front of jury, put the cuffs around her
I say fuck Your Honor
My mans a drankhead, can't even leave my cup around him
They tried to set some booby traps, but I just snuck around 'em
These some Geobaskets, you can't rock no Chucks around me
If you a pit, then why your tail always tucked around me?
Pull off in the TRX, you think my brother got you
You been in your hustle bag? Don't let the summer stop you
Keep your chains tucked 'cause cuddy, he'd love to rob you
He'd love to kill you, nigga, you won't never feel me
Banana clip up on the Drac', so you will never peel me
Witchcraft with Wocky, pourin' potion, prayin' that it heal me
Plug sent a couple bricks, he Shaquille O'Nealed me
Spent three thousand on a jacket 'cause it was gettin' chilly
Done beat the road down from Oregon to Mississippi

Shitty Boyz, Dog Shit Militia
Long live $cams
What's the deal, E?

Written by:
James Edward Johnson II, Efrem Jamaar Blackwell

Publisher:
Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING

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