BabyTron, TrDee - Cody Banks lyrics

If this shit was easy, everybody'll rich
It don’t matter what I do
I cannot get her off my dick
I'm sick as hell you switching teams
On some James Harden shit
Bro, you bet not try to check
Me 'cause you can’t guard me
You can't fuck with my team
You ball like it's 2K
Shit, I'm higher than the mountains
Riding 'round in the bay
She gon' pop up like a quiz
I can't show her where I stay
Like a third string quarterback, nigga
I don't play

What I’m pouring in my pop is lavender
You sipping eucalyptus
I’m flying through the trenches
Feel like Franklin, finna do a mission
You see this gun? I'm finna
Shoot you with it i was doing fraud
You was in the kitchen doing dishes
I was in the street, you was on the (Man)
I was in the street, you was on the porch
I was in thе street
You was contemplating on the steps
Don’t bе a dummy, put yo money on the best
Don't be a dummy, put yo money on the vets

Don't be a dummy tryna ball with superstars
Pull up in a two-seater, Chally super charged
Shitting on 'em like a toilet
Or a shooting guard
Finna get the bag on like Santa Clause
I’m just tryna catch a opp
And send him bullets, randy Moss
I'm just tryna get the cheese like
They put it on a trap
Boy, I'm from the Murder Mitt, where
You'll lick if you lack, no cap
I don't correlate with niggas 'less you DSM
Walking out the store with two
Fifties like a quarter M
Niggas hate to see you shining brighter
Rather see you dim
Bitch was bad before but now she not
She just like Lil Kim
762s left him hurt just like the curse
All she got is pussy
Not a single dollar in her purse
Money long, it was short like Lil Uzi Vert
I done hit this bitch from every angle
Now she call me "Kurt"

Pop out with some big shit
Catch me shooting Deagles
Out in traffic, you can't tell it's me
I'm in a Buick Regal
Talking 'bout he got a scam
Bible? I hate stupid people
He an agent on the low
I call him "Cody Banks"
Tick-tock-tick-tock, bitch, yo Rollie fake
Fit a eight into a twenty-four
And do the Kobe fade
Celine slippers in the crib, this a cozy day
Get it for the low then sell it top dollar
Drop his dawg without even touching
Him like a shock collar
Let this bullet knock you out
We are not squashers
Shoes with the spikes on these hoes
This is not soccer
Bitch, the soda cost a rack
Feel like Central Cee
Blowing doja in the 'Cat
Same thang, shit, a cobra and a rat
Automatic pump stretch him out like
Yoga on a mat

Fuck, shit (Shit, fuck, shit)