BabyTron - Hold Up, Wait! lyrics

I can't do no North Face
Unless Supreme on the coat
Thousand dollar double cup
I spilled some lean on the floor
I might pop out Mike Amiris
Off Celine on the ho
Unky in it knee deep
Can tell a fiend by his nose
Backdoor season
You won't hear me creeping out the door
Heard that one shit back going
Finna buy some pros
Looking like I'm playing Minecraft
All these diamonds on
Blowing Cookie from the middle shelf, oh
You kind of blow
On Middlebelt with some pings
Tryna find a store
High as hell without no shoes on
I tried to tie my toes
Huh, nah, I'm playing
Plug talking 'bout, "Come
Back tomorrow" nah
I'm staying
Hit your block with two chops
They gon' have to caution tape it
Unky cooking in the kitchen
Damn near tossed dog an apron
Since your mans a hellhound
We gon' send dog to Satan
Palm Angels nine hundred
I am not jogging basic
The backpack full of fifties
But the pants off the Franklins
You ain't no player, you a mascot
Eating lambchops with my gang
From the sandbox
Two-five-eight, three-six-five
This shit can't stop
Mister do the white buffs sipping
On a black pop
Pop a V-cut and turn into a different monster
Bitch play with me
I'm pullin' up and spittin' on her
This a big chopper
It look like a missile launcher
2022, I know my cheese getting longer
(No hat)
I only blow thrax
You broke, where the joke at?
Paid a whole rack for the
Coat on the coat rack
Heard you seen your opps and
Didn't blow, you a ho
Jack
Probably off a jugg device
You see my phone cracked
Finna hit the clerk with a
Punch like I'm Roman Reigns
You said that you the plug
What you sold today?
Little brodie bad as hell
Can barely even hold the K
Shit fucked up, but it's life
I can't show the pain
I can pearl a 'Wood in thirty seconds
Fuck a rolling tray
Dropped a check in a ham Chase
And now they owe the bank
ShittyBoyz galactic
Fuck around and do a show in space
I'm high as hell, I need
A drink like, hold up
Wait

I ain't even done yet
I gotta execute the beat
If I middleman the 'bows
I need an extra two a piece
Opp slid down, shit
I think he left his Cuban link
Dog Shit Militia, boss talk, we
Meet from two to three
Huh
Said you up a hundred, put the Bible on it
Ridin' in them Strikers
Ain't a plate or a title on me
Brodie Elmer Fudding
Walking 'round with a rifle on him
Multicolor Helmet Lang on
Looking tribal on it
See you upped some money, it look counterfeit
Fuck a three man deep, lil' boy
We 'bout to blitz
3 AM, I'm just snoozin' off in here
Countin' strips
How the fuck is you a scam
Vet? You never found a glitch
Walk 'em down, walk 'em down
I'm hopping out the 'Cat
Blew a twenty ball up at Saks
I don't know how to act
(Fuck)
You a motherfuckin' fool you think
We 'bout to scrap
Got some lil' pape'
You finna blow it or you 'bout to stack?