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1-800 - babytron lyrics

[intro]
hey, sh*ttyboyz, dog sh*t militia
long live $cam, r.i.p chris, t*double*h*l sh*t, you hip, skip?
(don’t you know you won the lotto?)

[verse]
hit the a in april, i might stay until the end of may
big brib, not no bnb nor an extended stay
i don’t post the pape’ i make, but it’s ’bout ten a day
the only reason that you up ’cause you don’t spend no pape’
and i understand, but bust a rubber band
boy, you wouldn’t catch a hat if you had double hands
whole bowl of zagaza, i’m leavin’ from the m*ffin man
foreign fit from buckhead, you would think this b*tch from buckingham
chrome heart snap back, i’m looking like a trucker, man
i done overdid the drank and hit the stutter dance
pockets, they obese, just call me blubbеr man
i be sleep a week straight, i can’t trust the xans
cut the flashlight on, i don’t trust thе purps
cut the sp*ceship on, i ain’t been trustin’ earth
he was getting over*tough and now he stuck in dirt
they told me, “lay off the spray”, but, sh*t, i’m stuck on terps
banned from every rental brand, sh*t, i’m f*cked on hertz
boy, i don’t sip no f*ckin’ turtle, boy, i’m slumped off purp’
unf*ckwithables, nah, this ain’t no gumbos, nerd
dudie bone a fiend just like bubbles doing undo work
when we ain’t got no work, sh*t, our custo’s jerks
dub just to redo the interior, my truck berserk
we need scripts on top of scripts, i need a custom nurse
cuddy pressin’ rp’s, he makin’ custom percs
i bet that b*tton thang put you on a custom shirt
we’ll leave his body cut in two, he need a custom he*rs*
f*ck the funeral, f*ck the pastor and f*ck the church
i’m mixin’ trizzy with some alcohol, this jungle syrup
you ain’t built for this b*tch, please get up out the jungle, sir
you ain’t really in the trap, boy, that’s yo’ uncle work
you ain’t really gettin’ trim, boy, that’s yo’ uncle shirt
you a f*ckin’ twerp
if the punches don’t work, we might jump the clerk
sh*t, 1*800*stump*alert
he ain’t got a dollar on him, 1*800*bum*alert
yo’ b*tch got some super*head, 1*800*cum*alert
rerocked him three times, 1*800*dumb*alert
took his bl!ck three times, 1*800*punk*alert
b*tches talm ‘bout shot*o*clock, 1*800*drunk*alert
turkey bag terrorist, 1*800*skunk*alert
oh, the block slamming? 1*800*unc*alert
she showed me y’all texts, sh*t, it’s 1*800*lunch*alert
you ain’t popped out in years, ha
you ain’t popped out the crib in years, this a 1*800*chump*alert
we just loaded up the site, 1*800*punch*alert
we just loaded up the site, 1*800*dump*alert
i be throwin’ ho’s out like paper
broke her down and crumbled her, i ain’t really even spend a month with her
[outro]
(1*800, you a b*tch, stay away)
(1*800, you a snitch, stay away) (don’t you wanna win the lotto?)
(aye, sh*ttyboyz, $bd$m)
(troncic, 77, troncic, 77, troncic, phew)

- babytron lyrics

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