BabyTron - Mr. Miyagi lyrics

BabyTron

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

[BabyTron - Mr. Miyagi lyrics]

You did your thing with this bitch, Hokatiwi
Swear to God phew, ayy
(It's Hokatiwi) phew, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ShittyBoyz

223s knock the dealer's name
Off your license plate
I'ma put it in the basket
Every time I isolate
When you really winning
It be hard for them to hide the hate
Widebody, I'ma drop a hundred if
The side get scraped contaminated pop
I might turn into a fucking mutant
Scam star, I don't sell crack
I make puncher music (Scam star)
Showboat, bitch, I can never ever underdo it
P90, take the muzzle off
It sound like thunder booming
Ski mask rocker
I ain't never been a robber though


I just pull it down, jam the chip
Then I gotta go (I'm out of here)
2016, probably had a ham on the phone (yeah)
Summer 2020, was in Cali'
Out there copping 'bows
I was tripping, asked the plug
Do he take EDD?
Talking 'bout valid, never had a green CVV
(Lame) eating off the self-scan
I ain't talking EBT it ain't no selection
Told the clerk he gotta Fiji me
Name brand everything
You know the water gotta match
Put my dick in your bitch mouth
And told her swallow that
Finna start acting bougie
Thousand for a follow back
Big Russian Cream, nah, I
Don't do the frontos, jack
Got the magic touch like Mister Miyagi
Real hustler, shit up in my blood
That shit in my body
Lil' candy apple Faygo
Finna hit it with some Wocky
If I call the mafia
They'll pull up tripping with some Tommies
Bro bloated, if the telly hitting
Whip-Its in the lobby
Wave starter, not wave rider
Dripping like tsunami
Real punch god 'cause with these bitches
I'm so godly (Punch god)
762s hit his dreads
Them bitches look like Takis
So I guess he a hothead top one or three
I ain't satisfied with top ten
It was just a cream soda
How the fuck the pop red? (How the fuck?)
Unky said he gon' come back
Or he gon' drop dead called Dorien
He told me pull up on the boulevard
Now I'm shooting east too hot
Trunk full of cards
I don't know what y'all do to opps
But we bully ours real Cookies pack
You can smell it when the Cookie spark
(Real Cookie) chrome Heart hoodie, bitch
Don't start with me (Chrome Heart)
Four of Keisha got me smacked
Like a car hit me
Teacher seen me out like, "You a star
Jimmy" (You a star)
But back in school
You ain't never see the smart in me
(I swear to God) we six deep with six
Chopsticks like it's TDM (Hitmen)
Know some real east side killers repping VDM
(Van Dyke)
Two forty plus? That's a ShittyBoyz BPM
The old me always know that one
Day I'd see me ten (yeah)
Please don't make me talk about nine
Real roadrunner, getting active on a Route 9
No cap, I75, heading south now
Stan hopping out the tinted Jeep
With the pow pow
Boy, you better crouch and take cover
Oh, her credit good? Like, shit
I'm 'bout to fake love her
Donny Bands pulling up from deep
He got a Dame jumper (That's my dog)
It's a new glitch, bitch
I'm finna have a great summer
Shooting from the city down to
Indi' like I'm Edmond Sumner
Doo doo doo doo, that's the weapon stutter
No equities with all this money
Go invest in something finna turn it up
Gang and them made me press the button
You was at the mall for ten
Hours and you left with nothing (Lame)
Twenty-five for the verse
The adlibs an extra hundred all off the top
I ain't have to use a pen for nothing
(Off-top) when I was broke, we was
Fam, why you acting jealous, cousin?
(Why?) this a 2021, you do not wanna race
Yeezy 350s, wear 'em loose
I don't want 'em laced
My bitch talking 'bout
"Pass the 'Wood" I just want her face
(I can't) shaq talking 'bout
"Buy a zip" I just want an eighth
(Come on, Shaq)
Getting off, this ain't nothing new
Been doing this forever (Forever)
It's a sunny day
Walk up in the strip and switch the weather
Full court all year
You can catch us with the pressure
Put my bitch in Triple S
She my lil' stepper six figure whip, bitch
The longsleeve a Caddy truck
She gon' lose count if she ever
Try to add me up
BabyTron broke this and that
That shit crack me up
You just post pics with that strap
You ain't actually tough
Fans see me out, said
"You was tripping on that Yachty album"
He tried to run away, silly wabbit
Point a shotty at him
It's his fault we had to body bag him
They wouldn't run it up if you
Threw a fucking joggy at 'em (Lame)
Where I'm at? Probably card cracking
Shooter getting shots in before
The coach start practice
I ain't see the plug in a minute, like
"Why you start taxing?" (Why?)
Lil' bitch couldn't last one
Round like March Madness

Ha ha, yeah (Huh, ayy) ayy
Y'all can't fuck with me
This is nothing new though come on now
Ayy ayy
Ayy ayy
Ayy, ayy, ShittyBoyz

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