BabyTron, midwxst - 223's lyrics
BabyTron [James Edward Johnson IV] Ypsilanti, Michigan. U.S.
[BabyTron, midwxst - 223's lyrics]
Do you hear that? (aldn)
That's, that's what real niggas sound like
Yeah, I got him mad, look at his face
He look like Darth Maul
Ringin' up my brothers
I'm the one that made them shots call
Gettin' paper, it stay in my hands
I feel like St paul
Said he wouldn't tell and then he did
And that's his damn fault
My money on Eiffel Tower, bitch
You know it stand tall
Been off of my phone, get in that bag, bitch
I don't need calls
If I ain't make like five-K in a day, bitch
I get withdrawals
Niggas tried to hold me down, well
Now they got me pissed off
Know some brothers that do drills
And they don't do construction
I know some brothers with them sticks
And thеy don't play percussion
My brodie, shh
He keep that K and it might gеt to bustin'
You fuck with gang
I hope you know you suffer repercussions
My pens and words are fucking
Weapons of that mass destruction
Run in that show and made it jump
Them bitches double-dutchin'
My brodie really keep that K
And he not even Russian
I'm in his city tryna slide but
I know that he duckin'
Man, got me pissed off
Bro hand up on the trigger
Ready right to let that bitch off
Word to my boy Chris
That chopper made him dance like TikTok
Casio all up on my wrist
Might go bust down the G-Shock
Brodie keep that 19 on
He ride 'round with that G-lock
What they say? They spot 'em
Then they got 'em, made him beatbox
Latina girls in my DM's, got me a mamacita
If you had the life I'm livin'
This shit loco, momma mia, ooh
Talk about my brothers and my family
We shoot from the paint hoodied up
Black fit on my body like Kevin Durant
I ain't perfect, I done
Did some shit, bitch, i am not a saint
Lost some brothers on the fuckin' way
And that shit brought me pain
Bail out any of my brothers
Or the fucking gang steppin' on me
I know no niggas gon' tuck the chain
The hardest that's comin out of Indi'
You gon' know the name told brodie
"Kick the cup" but he can't stop
Sippin' up on the drank
Hands on
I'm the type to pick the soccer ball up
Hop out and walk 'em down
We finna pop 'em all up (Brrt)
Sick, he think he shinin'
He done went and copped some Palm Buffs
(Bitch) face card scorchin'
I don't really shop at malls much (Woo)
Ha ha, look
Hot as fuck like I'm stuck in the microwave
(Damn)
Finna maximize the hit with this micro K
(Brrt) tryna hit the top
You gon' have to fight your way (Where?)
Tie him up and leave his body, shit
The psycho way
Tryna check this profile credit
What GEICO say? (What?)
You ain't tough, snatch your wood
Then light your way
Lil' pups aim for your ankles
We gon' bite your face
Yeah, with these 223s (Brrt)
Had the Vs back to back
You know these ain't no Jubilees
Tryna race with Mr vroom-And-Zoom
I guess that you will see
That you can't catch up
You sippin' Jabba the Hutt, I got a red cup
No cap
Yeah, I got him mad, look at his face
He look like Darth Maul
Ringin' up my brothers
I'm the one that made them shots call
Gettin' paper, it stay in my hands
I feel like St paul
Said he wouldn't tell and then he did
And that's his damn fault