[Skilla Baby:]
1-800, call me for the fire
Bag my first [?] then I’ma retire
Baby say she love me but she a liar
Why the fuck I gotta shoot for a bro? He a sniper
I’ma show you niggas how to stack the chicken up
Mama mad at me ’cause I fucked the kitchen up
Down here grinding, they think I’m rich as fuck
I’ma fuck her till I blow, she gon’ lick it up
When I was down bad, they was laughing
Now I’m beating up her back end
She gon’ eat this dick without asking
Put me in your group [?]
Since I dropped “King James” call me “Baby Bron”
Young nigga catch the bag, call him “BabyTron”
Never trust the opp niggas’ bitches, they be lying
Every time I left it up to God, dawg gave me signs
[BabyTron:]
We know that shit fabrication, boy, you really broke
Me and Skilla on a song? That’s two billy goats
Playing Monkey in the Middle with these silly hoes
Trust in the process but it’s probably ’cause they Philly hoes
I’m tryna be rich forever, feel like Roddy Ricch
Last of my kind, bitch, you can’t copy this
Tryna touch an M ASAP, on some Rocky shit
Told her I’m the GOAT so I guess I’m Captain Obvious
Last bitch took my heart and got to running with it
I ain’t got no time for games, wouldn’t touch a scrimmage
If you see that one bag, I’m probably jumping in it
Field goal percentage through the roof, boy, them dumps was hitting
You say you need some cheese? Let me reach up in my pocket
Pull my middle finger out ’cause, bitch, you need to stop it
Ain’t from Harlem but I ran it up off globetrotting
Hoes watching, feel like Shawn Michaels, bitch, I’m show stopping
Punching everything, I need anger management
All these punches, ain’t no way I that I can manage this
I don’t see my side, strip it off the mannequin
Once I slide this piece and grab the bag, bitch, I’m vanishing
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