BabyTron - Paul Bearer lyrics
BabyTron [James Edward Johnson IV] Ypsilanti, Michigan. U.S.
[BabyTron - Paul Bearer lyrics]
Smoking Swisher leafs 'cause the
Backwoods fucked up
Look at my neck, light show, bitch
I’m Hutch'd up
Turn my hustle to the max, bitch
I ain't luck up three-six of Runtz
You get stuck off of one puff
Touchdown, that’s a six out here, hut, hut
So many dunks in my closet
Don't know what's what
Point it at his toes
Turn his Yeezy's into Foam Runners
Why the fuck you put the cuffs
On her? She a known runner
Three-five, Durantula, bitch
I only blow thunder
High as hell on the roof
Dripping like a broke gutter
I'll do the dash and crash this bitch
I got full coverage
On the block with the big B's
I think the hood buzzing
Shoot the baby Drac' one handed
Got the wood jumping rap star
You might catch me somewherе
In your hood clutching walked out crispy
Feeling like I'm Kidd today
Doing sixty, pouring Kesha, shit
I had to hit thе breaks
Ain’t a shovel, P90, it’s gon' dig his grave
Deuce in my Gatorade, I’m shooting
Tryna win the game (Whew, ayy)
Trackhawk, damn near broke my
Neck tryna take off boy, I wish they would
Do the race and shake the jakes off
2021, I copped a mower, cut the snakes off
Dealership, new whip
I told 'em take the breaks off
When brodie slide
It's a hit like a Drake song
Trendsetter, not a wave rider, I create sauce
On my way to it right now, I can't wait long
Look me in my mirror tint
You can clearly see you’re losing
Look at your bitch, why she staring? Boy
I think she choosing
Look at your shoes, boy, you broke
Who you think you fooling?
Bitch let me send her up in Sprint, shit
I think she stupid
We gon' pop him in his Carti's
If he think he buff
Orange and brown Yeezy 350s
Look like Reese Cups
Doggie can't buy an eighthy so
He taking breezy puffs pull up
Burn him like some alcohol since
He think he cut looking like the auto shows
Scats irking up the block
Full court press, slap the floor
Turn it up a notch
Spilling Wock's on my sneaks
Look like detergent on my socks
Doggie laying in his bed crying
Hurting 'bout a thot can't relate though
Met my one plug in Mexico, I paid him pesos
Seen my one opp, I ain't say shit
I gave him halo
Mike Amiri's, bitch see my jeans like
"Where they make those?"
Maison Margiela, I got paint toes
Bankroll so fucking big that it can't fold
Hundred tucked, if I get caught
That's the case closed
You can go home with them Xannies
We don't take those
You can go home in them Converse
We don't wear them
Told bro like, "When we pull up, no
You can't spare them"
Fry his top with the chop, fuck around
Electric chair him
Yeah, the Glocks' something like
These Nike sneaks, we gon' air 'em
(Okay) undertaker, I don't wrestle
I'm with Paul Bearer
Soaring in the Track', 150
Think the 'Hawk scared her
So many red lines poured
We typing all errors
Wintertime, I'm a road running
Nike jog wearer
Summertime, I'm the type to drop the
Top and hit the hood
Eighty dollar eighthy, zaza
You can't hit this 'Wood at Benihana's
Told the bitch make sure my shrimp is cooked
Timmy Turner, strapped up, boy
I wish he would
Huh, ShittyBoyz what up, Enrgy?