Dookie Season – BabyTron (feat. RMC Mike)

(Damn, Machu, why’d you have to do ’em like that?)

We sit around, spark the ‘Woods up but this is not a camp
Rich got the peach Crush, turned it to a lava lamp
Bust the SPA for fifty-five then do my Sada dance
Lil’ bougie bitch with the grip, pussy got some clamps

Dawg walked up a lil’ too fast, I just shot a fan
Underwater fucking on yo bitch, I’m the Aquaman
I been getting money since niggas was selling five for ten
In the bay going [?] watch a nigga ghost ride the Benz

I’ma jam the chip and slide, never fucked with pots and pans
Stepping on shit 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

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’ fuck around and make some of the hottest shit

I swear to God, no cap
Sliding through the city with a .30 like Ordóñez
Out of town, cheating on my bitch, told her my phone dead
She see I’m balling like the NBA, she gave me pro head

Bust a nut, bitch kept going, told her to go ‘head
Give me ’bout fifteen more minutes, I want some more head
Sick of Sprite so I dropped a sixth of Wock’ in a cold red
Nigga, I’ll kill my sister, uncle, cousin for some old red

If I don’t come the ‘Miris or the purples, I’ma Ksubi jean it
Would’ve hit yo bitch but she a rat, she need some coochie cleaning
Lil’ bougie bitch gon’ throw a fit unless the sushi seasoned
SB and RMC, we shitting, this the dookie season

Girly stay solid to my nigga but the coochie cheating
Told a Wock’ pint, “I love you”, and I truly mean it
Fat nigga, I can’t wear Balmain, I’ma Gucci jean it
Me, BabyTron, and StanWill, we the Doonie Beaters

I see them sideburns growing in, you a coochie eater
You gave her four Percs just to fuck, you a coochie creeper
Back to them sideburns you got, you a booty eater
Could’ve punched the LV collection but the Gucci cleaner

RMC Mike, BabyTron, we can’t be stopped
Our cup is so motherfucking dark, it can’t be pop
Unc’ spent a thousand yesterday, he took auntie spot
I just bought a black-out, the same one [?] got

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 bitch 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 punch
Teachers didn’t like me, if I could, I would’ve failed lunch
Bitch, I’m in the Lamb’, put that old-ass Chevelle up