BabyTron - Rage Quit lyrics
BabyTron [James Edward Johnson IV] Ypsilanti, Michigan. U.S.
[BabyTron - Rage Quit lyrics]
(Ooh shit, that's a Danny G beat) ooh shit
I had a D in English class
But I was grade A with that reader writer
(Reader writer, reader writer)
Picked up pints and peas up out the farm
I feel like Peter Piper
I was thinking bigger, y'all can use it
We gon' be suppliers
Ron stay with a script like he Peter Jackson
Diving in the crowd to catch a play
That's Derek Jeter action
Set up shop in Iowa and fuck up Cedar Rapids
I got some chicken, cheese
And green like a Caesar salad
Yamaha, brodie sliding on a ATV
Supreme Timbs, came a long way from ACGs
He a role player on his team, call him "KCP"
Blowing Russian Creams
Drac’d up like the KGB smoking two Runtz
It taste like yams mixed with mac and cheese
Tryna drive a manual off Quagen
I might smack a tree eric Emanuel
The shorts chilling at the beach
MIA, all these plugs, I might grab a key
A dollar in the drum
He better have some juggernaut
Bitch, I’ve over up, nah, I ain’t no underdog
White sticks, chocolate tint
Lens like a Wonderball bitch acting weird
Ain’t need a knife when I cut her off
I was off the porch, you live the sports life
We can split the pizza
Tell my bro to grab his fourth slice
First classer
It say main cabin when you board flights
Finna tear yo bitch walls
Down like it’s Fortnite
Not to mention that the robbers
Looting in yo crib
Sipping out the baby bottle but
Ain’t drooling in a bib
While I’m popping, let go
I been fooling since a kid
When I’m shooting at his rim I
Ain’t hooping in a gym i done caught a hat
Spinning in a Redeye
Fucked around and caught a flat
Fuck some morning sex, you ever woke up
Caught a jack that’s what get me going
I’ma short him, if he call back
Tell him my digi broken shit
Blick with the button
Hit an opp and I’ma change his channel
Burberry straight from London if you
See me play the flannel
Half a ‘bow of Backpack Boyz
You out here facing Camels
So much white up in the kitchen
Cuddy the Michelin Man
Touchdown with blue and yellow
Looking like Michigan fans
Cut it out and take me to the plug
You be middling grams
Everybody wanna be a thug till
Shit hitting the fan, damn
If they check the scoreboard
They gon’ rage quit
Lesson learned, life a book
That’s another page flip
Being safe ain’t really safe so, bitch
We armed and dangerous
I ain’t worried ‘bout a thang
I’m in the hood dangling
I ain’t give a fuck from the start
Never had to trust in my heart
Thousand dollar total
Use a punch for the cart
I’ma catch all timers when
This blunt getting spark, for real
(Ooh shit, that’s a Danny G beat)
I had a D in English class
But I was grade A with that reader writer
(Reader writer, reader writer)
Picked up pints and peas up out the farm
I feel like Peter Piper
I was thinking bigger, y'all can use it
We gon' be suppliers
Ron stay with a script like he Peter Jackson
Diving in the crowd to catch a play
That's Derek Jeter action
Set up shop in Iowa and fuck up Cedar Rapids
I got some chicken, cheese
And green like a Caesar salad
Yamaha, brodie sliding on a ATV
Supreme Timbs, came a long way from ACGs
He a role player on his team, call him "KCP"
Blowing Russian Creams
Drac’d up like the KGB smoking two Runtz
It taste like yams mixed with mac and cheese
Tryna drive a manual off Quagen
I might smack a tree eric Emanuel
The shorts chilling at the beach
MIA, all these plugs, I might grab a key
A dollar in the drum
He better have some juggernaut
Bitch, I’ve over up, nah, I ain’t no underdog
White sticks, chocolate tint
Lens like a Wonderball bitch acting weird
Ain’t need a knife when I cut her off
I was off the porch, you live the sports life
We can split the pizza
Tell my bro to grab his fourth slice
First classer
It say main cabin when you board flights
Finna tear yo bitch walls
Down like it’s Fortnite
Not to mention that the robbers
Looting in yo crib
Sipping out the baby bottle but
Ain’t drooling in a bib
While I’m popping, let go
I been fooling since a kid
When I’m shooting at his rim I
Ain’t hooping in a gym i done caught a hat
Spinning in a Redeye
Fucked around and caught a flat
Fuck some morning sex, you ever woke up
Caught a jack that’s what get me going
I’ma short him, if he call back
Tell him my digi broken shit
Blick with the button
Hit an opp and I’ma change his channel
Burberry straight from London if you
See me play the flannel
Half a ‘bow of Backpack Boyz
You out here facing Camels
So much white up in the kitchen
Cuddy the Michelin Man
Touchdown with blue and yellow
Looking like Michigan fans
Cut it out and take me to the plug
You be middling grams
Everybody wanna be a thug till
Shit hitting the fan, damn
If they check the scoreboard
They gon’ rage quit
Lesson learned, life a book
That’s another page flip
Being safe ain’t really safe so, bitch
We armed and dangerous
I ain’t worried ‘bout a thang
I’m in the hood dangling
I ain’t give a fuck from the start
Never had to trust in my heart
Thousand dollar total
Use a punch for the cart
I’ma catch all timers when
This blunt getting spark, for real
(Ooh shit, that’s a Danny G beat)