BabyTron - Letter To Cornelius lyrics

BabyTron

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

[BabyTron - Letter To Cornelius lyrics]

(Damn, Machu
Why'd you have to do 'em like that?)

I75 the only time I work a night shift
Pack of jammers on the freeway
I'm finna swipe shit
Real source
Catch me plugged in by your light switch
Rollie on my left
Bust Patek on my right wrist
I'm the type to go and get it
You will watch the time tick
Told my players in the field
"When they yell that hike
Blitz"
Signed a record deal, shit
You should've read the fine print
Now you on the shelf
Finna spend your whole life pissed
Shit, the game is the game, yeah
It's pros and cons


A band on your head'll get you
Banged on like old LeBron
A hundred dollar appetizer, we at Ocean Prime
Everybody sick the time came
But they know it's mines
Hope you got your blickiana
'cause I'm toting mines
Double cup, drop a V-cut
I'm too blowed to drive
Ocean drive flying, drop the top
Finna float the ride
Take my pop and do some voodoo
Pour a four inside
I was on the road
You was busy doing work in school
Shit, yeah, you heard of me
But I ain't heard of you
Life in this fucker
I cannot let 'em search the coupe
Had a pocket full of green dubs
Then I turnt it blue
Cause said the tans don't work
He done turnt to blues
I'm a vet, striped up
But lil' bro earned 'em too
Designer oversized
Pissed that the shirt too loose
Feeling like a Raptor from Toronto
In these purple Loubs
Gettin' up, I might honey dip
Feel like Vince Carter
In the middle of the intersection
Finna spin Chargers
To even keep the game fair
Y'all gon' need six starters
Hitman one-shottin' shit
He don't get hit markers
You know why? 'Cause this life
Shit is not a game
We are not the same, hundred on me
We don't shop the same
You probably hoppin' off the bus
I'm hoppin' on a plane
Bro feeling grown
Got that big face and copped it plain
Need the date included
I can't do just that Datejust
Caught him up close, small map
But it ain't Rust
Yesterday was Turtle Pie, today
I had to face Runtz
Two grams where? Boy
I only face eighth blunts
Brodie like the bottom of the 'bow
Tryna shake somethin'
Preaching 'bout some bands
But did you wake up and make some?
Told my young bull keep going, yeah
The hate comes
Fly as hell in my Stone Island
I could BASE jump
Learned how to lose less, now I'm a gain-iac
Want a three five? Shit, it's
Eighty for the eighthy
Jack
Brodie threw a bullet accurate
Like a Brady pass
Me being broke? You cornballs
Almost made me laugh

Huh, nah, for real though
Use your fucking head, dude
What the fuck was you thinking?
Cornball, I'ma call you, "Cornelius"

Skrrt the Demon whip, try to race
Ain't no beatin' it
Unky had some clean work
But then he put his feet in it
Had to beat my plug ass like
"Why was it seeds in this?"
On Rodeo, spent thirty K, shit, I needed drip
Why the hell is you still
Rollin' up Gorilla Glue?
They'll rip banana peels
I ever let them 'rillas loose
Pull up on an opp like
"What the fuck you think you finna do?"
Thousand dollar mess in the booth
I just spilled my juice
Big cause was sittin' in that
Spot back when Billups hooped
Playing with the dog
Unky got some shit to scoop
It ain't no extra garlic butter
Told 'em fix my food
You an early bird
Huh? Finna work a six-to-two
Russian Cream, Honey
OG Bourbons here and there
Hate when fans don't say shit
Just be weird and stare
Brodie said that he'll face death
He don't fear the chair
Ask me if I give a fuck
I ain't nowhere near a care
Had to play the Faygo off
A bag of Better Mades
Shit, I threw a stack up
And made the weather change
Free Ju
I wish they would've put him
On that tether thing
Hug the block
I be playing how the centers play
Fucked around and caught a paper
Cut off these blue Benjis
I was at the register tryna
Cop some new Fendi
We don't do semis and you know
That we don't do hemis
I ain't sipping on no liquor
I don't do Henny

(Damn, Machu
Why'd you have to do 'em like that?)

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