BabyTron and Trdee - Ain't They?

(Enrgy made this one)
I'm sick I picked this lil' bitch, her friend look better

Yeah, I heard you got some dime hoes, my tens look better
Shit, they perfect, ain't they?
Track' tinted, if they pull us over, they gon' search it, ain't they?
Shit, I know them hoes probably up in the party twerkin', ain't they?
On your roof or in your bushes, shit, them boys lurkin', ain't they?
Mega guns up in the minivan, them boys purgin', ain't they?
If I hop up out the 'vert, these hoes, they gon' slurp it, ain't they?
Used to have to tell 'em step by step
Used to have to tell 'em step by step, shit, they learnin', ain't they?
I ain't seen no proof that they up, them boys hurtin', ain't they?
Your bitch seen us in the mall like, "Damn, them boys splurgin', ain't they?"
Ain't that? Like, shit, aren't we?
We secured alpha and bravo, now we hittin' Charlie
It was eaters in the basement, now the gang hittin' Barbies
Huh, these hoes still eaters, though
Time to upgrade your kit, even my pinky finger froze
Iceman, shit, I'm George Gervin with the finger roll
Where the, where the, where the fuck did my two-liter go?
Poured an eight on Eight Mile, woke up lost on Cedar Grove
Bitch just turned eighteen, already sellin' pussy
Spinned last night, his fam and them already sellin' hoodies
Told the Girl Scouts to leave the spot, already sellin' Cookies
Took his Glocky, he thought we was sellin' fullies, sellin' woodies
We got French fluffies in, lil' bitch, we sellin' bullies
Smellin' like some zotty, Action Impact wouldn't sell me bullets
Tell a bitch that I probably wanna fuck if she catch me lookin'
Everybody with me got a belt, come on and catch these whoopings
That's my lil' ho job, you won't catch me cookin'
Unless 12 behind on foot, you won't catch me bookin'
Shit, it's time to mark your calendars and set your clocks
Set a reminder for the shootin' squad to bend your block
You ain't gon' send no shots, you ain't gon' press no opps
If I give your ass the hit list, you ain't gon' check no box
Whip futuristic, doors opened when I said, "Unlock"
Buy a bando, fuck the renovation, we gon' set up shop
Live from the trap, just drivin' by, you'd probably think it's empty
I just copped a four for four, but hell nah, I ain't eatin' Wendy's
On my way to Tide's dry cleaners, drinkin' lean get messy
Soda dark as midnight, you would probably think it's Pepsi
Hard to guard him like he Harden, shooter on the wing a lefty
Dunkin' on these hoes while catchin' plays, shit, I need an ESPY
Told my bitch to grab the switch and shoot it like she Lisa Leslie
Need to chill on jewelry, whole time thinkin' that I need a presi'
What my baby 40 say? I know the lean'll catch me
If I can't rap or scam, then I know the fiends'll bless me
The forecast mostly cloudy, but the kit shinin'
She get everything she want, like, why this lil' bitch whinin'?
Why this lil' bitch lyin'? I don't care that much
Get the drop and air that up, we gon' tear that up
You the type to make a forty ball and swear that's up
You think your team the chosen ones, but I can swear that's us
Your juice plug only had a deuce, but you would swear that's clutch
That ain't enough, that ain't enough, that ain't enough

Shoes cost a nigga car note, so I'm walkin' different
Doggy bone fold under pressure, knock him off his pivot
Talkin' like the kingpin, but he ain't even got no wheels
I don't give a fuck about your problems, I ain't Dr. Phil
Pull down and get your shit painted, shooter pimp your ride
Took her to Miami, she ain't never been to Ocean Drive
I ain't never trippin', I'm just thankful that I'm still alive
Niggas grimy, know that that's your bitch and they still'll slide
Mix and match designer, I can play it any way I want
I'ma fuck around and drop a presi' and forget to vote
She like, "Baby, they ain't fuckin' with you, I swear you the G.O.A.T."
I just spent a nigga down payment on a winter coat
Check my résumé, I'm really him, you ain't hip (you ain't up)
Talkin' 'bout you in the deep end, you a shrimp (you a little man)
Pass the play to Tron, he gon' dunk it, Shawn Kemp
Damn, what's in this 'Wood? I think I'm higher than a blimp (damn)
Room full of ballers that ain't make it to the league
It ain't even fire, why you taxin' for the weed?
Shooter get on point, so everybody call him Steve
I be smokin' zobbers, it be kinda hard to breathe
In Milwaukee with them bucks, I kinda feel like Dam and Giannis
Gang and them'll pull up with that baby Drac', but not Adonis
You not even in our category, nigga, let's be honest
You know, you should know the answer if I ask you who the hottest
It should be rhetorical, these niggas ain't no competition
You can't use your bitch card, before you do, you need permission
I ain't worried 'bout these bitches 'cause I'm really on a mission
Could've really put you on, I was mad that you ain't listen
I'ma run it up again, that ain't enough
I'ma ball on 'em some more, that ain't enough
You gon' have to show me more, that ain't enough
That ain't enough, that ain't enough, that ain't enough

Written by:
James Edward Johnson II, Dee Hamlet

Publisher:
Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find