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lirik lagu space jam – babytron

[intro]
hokatiwi

[verse]
white sticks like i dipped the buffs in a milk carton
and the b*tches got the nuggets too like i’m will barton
four hundred dollar chrome tee but i’m still heartless
i’ll have yo whole crew running like a drill sergeant
i ain’t on a pill trip, b*tch, i’m on a jack run
two phones slapping, had to throw away to tap one
zaza after zaza, i got black lungs
scoring through all the foul play, that’s a and one
splash bros, if i don’t pull up, i know stan will shoot
tripping in the coupe, finna crash like i’m bandicoot
miami beach loft with a good great atlantic view
heard the clerk sweet like kool*aid, brought the jammers through
chop with the flash, we’ll pause him like a photo
told her, “we a secret”, i’ma dog her on the low low
b*tch wanna link, if we ain’t fraud then it’s a no go
smoking out a two pound, balling like i’m bobo
f*ck, this some gotham runtz
undertaker, if i’m down, just know that i’m popping up
yeah, i see you mugging ’cause you peeped that i dropped the buffs
reaching? we gon’ swing sticks like the ref dropped the puck
real road runner, probably won’t even stop for lunch
talking like you stepping but i know that you not gon’ crunch
whoop an opp to the lord, b*tch, watch me lob him up
had to up my jordan 1s so i went and copped a bunch
i ain’t gon’ stop till the kid got the goat status
put the red beams on his face, he need proactiv
i don’t need a stunt double, i’ll face my own action
i can score in two different fields like i’m bo jackson
b*tch cold so i threw a moncler coat at her
and i think the b*tch know voodoo, she a soul sn*tcher
boy, stop rapping, you be talking sh*t that don’t matter
c*cky f*ck since middle school, i been a roll flasher
b*tch friends ask where she at, told’ em, “with her date”
smile tugging on the [?] brodie trigger happy
out here, you going out bad but in flint, you chatty
for the hundredth time, i hopped in and i zipped my baggy
no lag, 7.62s, they’ll flip yo cady
blowing out the new cookies pack, i be missing cali
on telegraph with the scope, can hit a opp in ypsilanti
scored sixty out in new york, told the knicks to draft me
two hundred dollar sea food, finna make a mess
that ain’t olive oil when you see unkie [?]
chase hoes? nah, i’d rather go and chase a check
since you got a big heart, told bro to aim for chest
b*tch called me “broke”, told that ho they must’ve laced her meth
i don’t mean to dog hoes, you can go and thank my ex
we ain’t in the h*llcats tonight, catch us racing ‘vettes
loyalty so rare, won’t even let a b*tch take my test
off some chill sh*t, ran up a hundred in these pair of crocs
woke up with zero f*cks to give, boy, i swear to god
skrrt around, whip roaring like a triceratops
hitter brought the stick to san fran like he barry bonds
sealed pint, boy, i gotta charge you for every drop
hustle dying wish, boy, my life wasn’t [?]
that ain’t hutch, i see you grab that watch out of jared’s box
took my b*tch ot and told her be prepared to shop
[?] back to back drip trips
lauren london type b*tch, blues on me, rip nip
got it out the mud, in the hood like a dipstick
cuz thirtheen, he’ll pull up shooting off his ripstik
ray lewis, catch you with the bag, i’ma hit stick
twenty thousand in the restaurant and didn’t tip sh*t
lil’ light skin, lip gloss, don’t do lip stick
b*tch, i got a squad full of goons like i’m trick trick
[outro]
ayy, sh*ttyboyz

- babytron

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