BabyTron - Manute Bol lyrics
BabyTron [James Edward Johnson IV] Ypsilanti, Michigan. U.S.
[BabyTron - Manute Bol lyrics]
Fuck the fire, we got grease
Birds of a feather flock together
Gang in Goose coats
I was lil' dog
Now my pape' like Manute Bol
10K a day, all blues, this a new roll
(Ooh, it's BlueStrip, baby)
Unky wilding
Selling school buses in the school zone
Fifteen hundred on the hoodie
This some new Chrome
Fit seven thousand even when I
Got no shoes on
Bicep in the Backwood, this bitch too strong
Undertaker, I'll slide down
Give 'em a tombstone
On the freeway, chopped up in that E lane
Fully switch got Auto-Tune, I call it T-Pain
Three chains straight from Hutch
Yours from eBay
Reach for this chain
Leave 'em stretched like it's pregame
You can't slide down
You in that shooter with the cheap tires
I might burn Sam's Club down
Every piece fire
Ex bitch cooked
Had to leave her in the deep fryer
Four thousand on the buffalos
Don't think these wires
Sundays, I should've been in church
But I was bag chasing
Someday, your time might come
You better have patience
One way up on the east side
We just Scat racing
Up pape' on some haters
Leave 'em with the mad faces
Lil' gang some test dummies
They'll crash out
Something like Lamar
I end up in your stash house
It don't mean he ain't a cop
Just 'cause ain't no badge out
Life a gamble, I'm just on the road
Could never crap out
Trackhawk, Trackhawk, shit, we finna stab out
Back to back in traffic, shit
I guess that's what they mad 'bout
Backpack Boyz, Bluegatti, finna pass out
If you ain't up a hundred
You can shut your damn mouth
High as hell
Three hundred dollar meal at the Crab House
Down looking bad 'round this bitch
Help your mans out
They used to talk down a lot
I heard they fans now
Your favorite rapper's favorite rapper
Whipping bands out
Your mans in there telling shit
'Vette with the trunk in the
Front like an elephant
Japanese Fanta, thousand dollar medicine
Engine, it's a hellephant
Hear it when I'm revving it
Dog Shit Militia, you are not a member
Hitman caught two opps and
They got popped together
I might play the new fit tomorrow
Gotta watch the weather
Courtside Pistons game
I'll wear Crocs wherever
Riding 'round, trail bottom Strikers
You'd be dumb to try it
Every morning 2018
I went and punched Verizon
Pape' on his head
Had my shooter fucking mummify him
Dog a real bitch, ten years
He been run and hiding
Louis V backpack on, it's a hun' inside it
Starbucks cup
Crushed ice and some mud inside it
Let me hear it's up, dumb fuck
Bet I jump the highest
Huh
Either road running or I'm catching flights
Said you paid well
Let's go to Hutch and go and test your ice
That's how we'll check the price
Za man
Gotta face a zip to go to bed at night
In first place, had to rose gold my medals
Mister Make It There Quick
Got my foot up on the pedal
Got the sleeves up today
I had to show the bezel
.223s slamming
I'll leave it to the pros to wrestle
Everybody got some money now? Shit
I smell cap
Mad as fuck, where the fuck the mail at?
You always in the ashtray like
"Where the tail at?"
Plug pulled up with some bullshit
I can't sell that
Yeah, the dubs feel good, but
You gon' see some L's
Jack
How the fuck the engine barking
Riding in the Hellcat?
Smack the shit out his ass like
"Go and tell that"
Scam God, he waiting on his pape'
Take his L back
Ayy, ShittyBoyz
Phew, Dog Shit Militia
Birds of a feather flock together
Gang in Goose coats
I was lil' dog
Now my pape' like Manute Bol
10K a day, all blues, this a new roll
(Ooh, it's BlueStrip, baby)
Unky wilding
Selling school buses in the school zone
Fifteen hundred on the hoodie
This some new Chrome
Fit seven thousand even when I
Got no shoes on
Bicep in the Backwood, this bitch too strong
Undertaker, I'll slide down
Give 'em a tombstone
On the freeway, chopped up in that E lane
Fully switch got Auto-Tune, I call it T-Pain
Three chains straight from Hutch
Yours from eBay
Reach for this chain
Leave 'em stretched like it's pregame
You can't slide down
You in that shooter with the cheap tires
I might burn Sam's Club down
Every piece fire
Ex bitch cooked
Had to leave her in the deep fryer
Four thousand on the buffalos
Don't think these wires
Sundays, I should've been in church
But I was bag chasing
Someday, your time might come
You better have patience
One way up on the east side
We just Scat racing
Up pape' on some haters
Leave 'em with the mad faces
Lil' gang some test dummies
They'll crash out
Something like Lamar
I end up in your stash house
It don't mean he ain't a cop
Just 'cause ain't no badge out
Life a gamble, I'm just on the road
Could never crap out
Trackhawk, Trackhawk, shit, we finna stab out
Back to back in traffic, shit
I guess that's what they mad 'bout
Backpack Boyz, Bluegatti, finna pass out
If you ain't up a hundred
You can shut your damn mouth
High as hell
Three hundred dollar meal at the Crab House
Down looking bad 'round this bitch
Help your mans out
They used to talk down a lot
I heard they fans now
Your favorite rapper's favorite rapper
Whipping bands out
Your mans in there telling shit
'Vette with the trunk in the
Front like an elephant
Japanese Fanta, thousand dollar medicine
Engine, it's a hellephant
Hear it when I'm revving it
Dog Shit Militia, you are not a member
Hitman caught two opps and
They got popped together
I might play the new fit tomorrow
Gotta watch the weather
Courtside Pistons game
I'll wear Crocs wherever
Riding 'round, trail bottom Strikers
You'd be dumb to try it
Every morning 2018
I went and punched Verizon
Pape' on his head
Had my shooter fucking mummify him
Dog a real bitch, ten years
He been run and hiding
Louis V backpack on, it's a hun' inside it
Starbucks cup
Crushed ice and some mud inside it
Let me hear it's up, dumb fuck
Bet I jump the highest
Huh
Either road running or I'm catching flights
Said you paid well
Let's go to Hutch and go and test your ice
That's how we'll check the price
Za man
Gotta face a zip to go to bed at night
In first place, had to rose gold my medals
Mister Make It There Quick
Got my foot up on the pedal
Got the sleeves up today
I had to show the bezel
.223s slamming
I'll leave it to the pros to wrestle
Everybody got some money now? Shit
I smell cap
Mad as fuck, where the fuck the mail at?
You always in the ashtray like
"Where the tail at?"
Plug pulled up with some bullshit
I can't sell that
Yeah, the dubs feel good, but
You gon' see some L's
Jack
How the fuck the engine barking
Riding in the Hellcat?
Smack the shit out his ass like
"Go and tell that"
Scam God, he waiting on his pape'
Take his L back
Ayy, ShittyBoyz
Phew, Dog Shit Militia