BabyTron - Trick Or Treat?

Do you know how lucky I feel I am
To find a man who loves me as I am? (It's Hokatiwi)
You never try to change a single part of me
Can show you how, do you want it?

Thousand dollar meal, I can't read what the menu say
Calamari, oxtails, and some crème brûlée
Never under-achievin', we N-U-A
(Never, never, never, never)
Played out the ARP, this a M16
Got the pint at ten, drank it all by 10:16
That's a line a minute
When cuddy step into that kitchen, he ain't fryin' chicken (nope)
Loose leaf, slab wood, I'll play both
Ironic, it's a ghost gun 'cause this bitch'll make ghosts
Seventh game, I ain't choke, you should sit and take notes
Fucked around, did the Wock' slush, it left my brain froze
Said you poured a eight, bro, must be all K roll
Wake up, tote banana clips off the Bape row
Sweat them boys two times, think the series 8-O
Probably think the S, "sport," but it stand for space mode
This a UFO (yoom)
In the whip, doin' shrooms, that's a boombox (damn)
DFE, catchin' plays in the boondocks
At the line, down one, two shots (yup)
Guarantee I hit both, shit, who not?
You the middleman, sold bowls, never grew crops
They ain't even competition, think I need some new opps
Cut into your bitch, had her oozin' like a juice box
Turnin' in my Apple products, I can't let the fruit rot

(Hey)
Banana clip hangin' out longer than a tube sock (brrp, ah, ah)
In my zone, off a six, got a pocket full of guwop (hey)
Cuddy on the run 'cause he missed arraignment
I'll take the blick and aim it, point it at your whip, and paint it
Everybody hatin', now they lovin', went from Chris to Raymond
Shittyboyz, DogShit Militia (ShittyBoyz)

Lou Alcindor, got the fiends on the block hooked
Streets ain't safe, 'fore you cross, gotta stop, look (look)
Take my buckle, hit tush, he just got whooped
Doggy tried to run off with the bag, got a chopped foot (come here)
I don't play games, gotta act a vision
Why you worried 'bout a M? You ain't had a half a ticket (you haven't)
Let alone, a hundred K, it's a stack in different
Never me, you would give up tryna pass a mission (where?)
Yeah, I see your new kicks, they the last edition
Don't even worry 'bout my craft, I'm masterin' it
Masked up with it, bro gon' rob on Halloween
Blended in so clean, they ain't catch him on the scene
Trick or treat? Choose wisely (dummy)
At your door, two of us in two shiesties
Do you really think I give a fuck who likes me? That is not my income
Told Dee if he missed the three, I'ma tip dumb
Uh-huh, bitch, I'm rollin' up a big blunt
Oh yeah, the last tough guy? This some him runtz
Still ain't made a fifty ball? Time to give them trips up
Time to make that call, valet, pull the whip up
DSM, playin' with them pits, get a bit butt
Pause, that was a bit much, but I don't give a fuck
Shooter like a drunk-ass salonist, fuckin' wigs up
Tried to keep the kid underground, I hit to dig up
How you gon' judge a book before you read the prologue?
Tellin' fairy tales that we cool, I don't know dawg
Rest of my life, it's all show (yup), no talk
White buffs, look like Hutch hit me with a snowball
In a foreign car, roof down while the doors ajar
Punch that I got clerk, won't see the scoring card (nope)
It really hits my soft spot when I pour the heart (ah)
Ever try to fix somethin' and been short a part? (Man)
Ever try to break somethin' then it wouldn't fold?
Same DNA I got up in my fuckin' bones
Touchdown OT with gang, I couldn't come alone
In a Sprinter with some bowls, we gon' spend the summer blow
We spent all year geeked
You say I ain't talkin' good? Then your ears weak
Can't afford to miss a flight, I had to pay that clear fee
Shittyboyz, long live $cams

Written by:
James Edward Johnson II

Publisher:
Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING

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