BabyTron - 10 Toes Wherever lyrics

BabyTron

BabyTron [James Edward Johnson IV] Ypsilanti, Michigan. U.S.

[BabyTron - 10 Toes Wherever lyrics]

Mmh
I was up workin'
Ayo, Mark A

I was up workin'
You was probably sleep procrastinatin'
They done turned me up with' the hate
Now I'm activated
Facecard really scorchin'
I ain't just actin' famous
I was even ballin' in the beaters
Feel like Calvin Cambridge
Doggie song had more cap than a graduation
Presis on his head
Get him blew like a stack of Franklins
Thinkin' he a demon
Fuck around and send his ass to Satan
Crib big as hell
Even the yard in the back is spacious
I be blowin' Za', you smoke Reggie Miller
Dog Shit Militia, ShittyBoyz


We some heavy shitters
Nails, bundle in the purse
I ain't petty with' her
One eye open in the kitchen
Bro a fetty whipper
This ain't 17-38, this some Wockhardt
Shooter got like thirty-sum' badges
This is not park
What I drop last? Shit
Go and check the top charts
Knock him out that new Chrome hoodie
Chop' stop hearts
Jackman, catchin' bricks like
I'm Jonas Valančiūnas
In that fast thing
Off a dirty soda actin' stupid
My mans backdoor me
Hope that I ain't have to do it
Was an evil kid
Young Tron was a bad influence
Nobody does it better, shit, dog
I feel like Snoop
Four-figure cup
Better not let me spill my juice
Mr. Big Shot, I get like when Billups shoot
Twenty deep in BAPE hoodies
I'll let them 'Rillas loose
Blowin' bands in my Stone Island
Someone take a pic
Buffs lookin' like Alfredo on
My steak and shrimp
Out in Cali
Flyin' down Rodeo in the latest shit
Gotta mow the grass if I see the snake in him
Yeah, you got on Mike Amiris
But it ain't no pape in them
They ain't one of us, gang, gang
We can't hang with' them
Diamond in the rough
Now I'm in the booth makin' gems
They in arms-reach
I ain't even really chasin' Ms
Doggie wanted Za'
Gave his ass shaking and hemp
Smokin' Gary Payton
This month I done made a Kemp
Waitin' till he leave the crib
Hitman done made a tent
Why you flashin' on the 'Gram
But out here late on rent
Why you in the club feelin'
Good? You finna get evicted
Call of Duty shit, backpack
Six pistols in it
Baby-drac', it got some missiles in it
Tornado mode in the demon, bitch
I'm spinnin' in it
Talkin' big money
But your bank ain't got a nickle in it
In that widebody, freewayin'
Tryna wiggle in it
Talkin' 'bout a plug
You the monkey in the middle with' it
Habibi up that paintbrush
He finna scribble with' it
Ridin' 'round in that droptop
With' no worries
Clip hold Curry
Throw it out the window if they
Flick us 'cause the pole dirty
ZaZa after ZaZa, vision so blurry
Ten toes wherever
Give a fuck what's goin' on
Thousand dollar coat, I just bought it
Finna throw it on
Fake ass kit that you wearin', boy
You know you wrong
Feelin' cocky
Buffs on my face and I'm blowin' strong

Ayy, ShittyBoyz
Waddup, Mark?
Dog Shit Militia, yeah

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