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lirik lagu dookie season – babytron

[intro]
d*mn, machu, why’d you have to do ’em like that?

[verse 1: babytron]
we sit around, spark the ‘woods up but this is not a camp
[?] got the peach crush, turned it to a lava lamp
bust the spa for fifty*five then do my sada dance
lil’ boujee b*tch with the grip, p*ssy got some clamps

[verse 2: rmc mike]
dawg walked up a lil’ too fast, i just shot a fan
underwater f*cking on yo b*tch, i’m the aquaman
i been getting money since n*ggas was selling five for ten
in the bay going [?] watch a n*gga ghost ride the benz

[verse 3: babytron]
i’ma jam the chip and slide, never f*cked with pots and pans
stepping on sh*t with two straps, i’m the prada man
dunking with the chop, knock yo wig off like juwanna mann
in a blacked*out suburban, looking like obama mans

[verse 4: rmc mike]
put the strap down and get knocked out, i got a lot of hands
when i was broke, i was lonely, now i’m up, i got a lot of friends
told tron to meet me at the booth, it’s time to politic
me and bro gon’ f*ck around and make some of the hottest sh*t
[verse 5: babytron]
i swear to god, no cap
sliding through the city with a .30 like we’re [?]
out of town, cheating on my b*tch, told her my phone dead
she see i’m balling like the nba, she gave me pro head

[verse 6: rmc mike]
bust a nut, b*tch kept going, told her to go ‘head
give me ’bout fifteen more minutes, i want some more head
sick of sprite so i dumped the sixth of wock’ in the cold red
n*gga, i’ll k!ll my sister, uncle, cousin for some old red

[verse 7: babytron]
if i don’t come the ‘miris or the purples, i’ma ksubi jean it
would’ve hit yo b*tch but she a rat, she need some coochie cleaner
lil’ boujee b*tch gon’ throw a fit unless the sushi seasoned
sb and rmc, we sh*tting, this the dookie season

[verse 8: rmc mike]
girly stay solid to my n*gga but the coochie cheating
told a ‘wock [?] you are not truly needed
fat n*gga, i can’t wear balmains, i’ma gucci jean it
me, babytron, and stanwill, we the doonie beaters

[verse 9: babytron]
i see the sideburns growing in, you a coochie eater
you gave her four purses just to f*ck, you a coochie crepper
back to them sideburns you got, you a booty eater
could’ve punched the lv collection but the gucci cleaner
[verse 10: rmc mike]
rmc mike, babytron, we can’t be stopped
cup is so motherf*cking dark, it can’t be popped
unc’ spent a thousand yesterday, he took [?] spot
i just bought a black*out, the same one [?] got

[verse 11: babytron & rmc mike]
got a sixth sense with the scamming, i can smell juggs
.45 pin him to the wall, this a nail gun
four hundred dollars off of every twenty, i’m a jail plug
bought my new b*tch a big bag, the chanel one
thanksgiving dinner, granny talking ’bout she smell runtz
tron got thirty cards on him, now i think he sell [?]
teachers didn’t like me, if i could, i would’ve failed lunch
b*tch, i’m in the lamb’, put that old*ass chevelle up

- babytron

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