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Its On Lyrics - Artist : BabyTron
Alright, bet, bet, bet, bet, bet, it's on, it's on
Ayy Granny mad as hell, she talking 'bout I buy too many clothes Stan, I think we need a U-Haul, bro, it's too many phones It's only two bands here, I'm thinking it's too many hoes FedEx flagged the drop house, we sent too many loads Think I got a problem, I don't think, I just pick my hoes Dre stuck with some ice on, you would think he froze Won't give my bitch a shift, probably think I'm broke Stan got a shot like Jell-O, well I think I'm Zoe Huh, ayy We on Melrose tripping, buying everything Dre big tripping in the Scat, he in every lane DOBs, SSNs, we got every name Dirty in the rental, we got sticks, we got Mary Jane Ayy, ShittyBoyz up, told my boys, "We the shit, gang" Pulled the pape out, left my jeans with some shit stains Bitch irritating, I'm so glad that her Lyft came Bitch, we play with Dracs like we running through the 6, gang We'll put the hoes on him 'cause his brain in his dick, ayy Bitch setting plays up, LJ came with the stick, ayy You a stinky bum bitch with a pocket full of lint, lame New i8, I shift drift then I switch lane Yeah, I'm skinny but the Glock'll put the muscle on you Slime walking, Triple S, nine hundred with the bubbles on it Bro'll sauce you up for that and put the mustard on you I'm finna punch some Air Max just so I can hover on 'em Tron off the za, got him higher than a space station Bitch, I'm on the block with my 'rillas and my eight baby Gang pulled up with the monkey nuts, had my apes blaze 'em Doggy Superman, saving hoes and he pape saving I'm with Tron, I'm with Dre, I'm with LJ Swipe cards, scam grandmothers, I don't sell eights Every nigga with me solid, they can't even spell "fake" 'Fore I hit him with it, ask the opps, "Can you spell 'Drac'?" Adidas fanny pack, I pull it out and then I zap his ass I can't even count how many fucking bags I dragged in Saks Dunking on yo bitch, fuck around, unlock my slasher badge Put the vallet in the [?] boy, you bet not crash the Scat Ain't a bodybuilder, got a Glocky, I'll finish you I ain't smoking za, drip exotic, check the tennis shoe Bro'll rip it off yo neck if he like the kit on you ShittyBoyz, gang, gang, yeah, we'll shit on you Way before Corona, gang and 'em, they had a mask collection Two hundred dollar plate, steak and shrimp, no, I ain't anorexic Sit the fuck down, lil' man, you will get slammed for stepping I be dripping, ugh, boy, yo fit ain't even half impressive Fucked around and sent his mans to Heaven He thought he was tired till that new exotic Fanta met him I just set the play for lil' bro, I just passed, he catched it Had to buy some thousand dollar shoes 'cause my ass be stepping But I'ma do the Yeezys I don't eat no coochie, told that bitch to make the coochie even Jumped in the deep, now I splash, finna do the fee She must think I'm Rick James or something, she get super freaky In LA, my cholo knock yo mans' sombrero off Me and Stan Lewis and Clark, this habanero talk They done spiked the punch with the Wock', I can barely talk My east side bitch be tripping, Glock got a pair of balls Hit two freaky bitches in LA, knocked down a pair of walls Bro infatuated with the work, he tryna marry dawg Chop'll knock the mug right off his face, he bet not stare at all Fuck Corona, bro ain't masking up 'cause he don't care at all Yeah, yeah, lil' bitch, yeah, yeah Boy, you broke as hell, you got fired, do like Craig, yeah '010, I was beating ass, hopping off pegs, yeah 25K, five people, we in a jet, yeah Big hammers on me, riding 'round with a sledge, yeah Bitch, my allegiance to the bag, finna pledge, yeah I'll up spirit if you push me to the edge, yeah We can walk him down 'cause the chop got a leg, yeah Hopping in suburban, boy, I know you seen The Purge Gang hopping on it, all they need is the word I just left Saks like, damn, boy, I got some splurge Pull my dick out 'cause I know yo bitch got the urge |
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