Million Dollar Thoughts – BabyTron

Yeah
(2.42)
Shitting on ’em like a big- yeah, okay, huh
Shitting on ’em like a big baby, call me Glenn Davis
Huh, ShittyBoyz

Shitting on ’em like a big baby, call me Glenn Davis
‘Wood after ‘Wood in rotation got my head banging
I’ma toss what I made today, I don’t spend savings
I’ma keep it one hundred, pocket full of Ben Franklins
Certified shit talker, walk around and drip water
Better push the gas on the block, bro ‘nem whip sparkers
Mind on a milli’, labels better have a big offer
Bro deep in that water, would’ve thought a fish taught him
You would’ve been drowned
Bitch ain’t know my songs back then, but she hip now
Woke up at six on the dot and made six thou’
Headshot what? You don’t do shit but hit clouds
What, you mad at the sky or something?
You ain’t gotta post the addy, promise we gon’ find the function
Buffs with the frozest ice chunks got my sinus running
Running up a check in SBs, catch me Nike stunting
I’ll probably catch you on the corner waiting on a bus
Unky got expensive habits, fourteen hundred on a cup
But he fucked up, he spend his free pape’ on a slut
Beating up the road currently, right now I’m on a run
Shooting down south in a rental, the Waffle House for breakfast
No cap, with Visas, I’ll take the hottest route and press it
Pull out that big Draky, bet he drop that lil’ weapon
With the real life mob, they nonstop with all the stepping
Yeah, okay, back to back in race cars, it’s looking like the Piston Cup
7.62s like Kawhi Leonard, they’ll rip him up
I’ma wipe somebody shit clean, don’t let me get a punch
Brodie one up, sipping slow out a triple cup
Swerving ’round tryna scale something, made the DIGI jump
Bape jacket hit for six, tell your bitch to zip me up
If it ain’t about no USD, don’t even hit me up
Times changed, tables turned, I got ’em sick that Jimmy up
How the fuck you grown as hell with lil’ kid money?
Can’t relate, I’m young as hell, ten on the fit, dummy
Can’t relate to other rappers, you won’t take this kit from me
Don’t get stomped out in some spikes, you see the kicks bloody
Tryna wrestle, chopstick slam him like it’s Seth Rollins
You ain’t got it in the booth, so move on to the next option
Got a killer hanging out the sunroof tryna headshot ’em
Pull up on your bitch like Young Money, left her bed rocking
Where the fuck the competition at?
Heard dog song, he should’ve called that shit the biggest cap
Slam dunked on your bitch, made sure her rim detached
Green, orange, and blue Demons, looking like Aristocats
Green, pink, and blue money, which roll you wanna see?
BabyTron, I’m who your lil’ fucking brother wanna be
If she ain’t throwing neck, guarantee I’ma wanna leave
But I got a bad bitch now, I don’t wanna cheat
I’ll have my bitch score for me like she Lisa Leslie
Made me twenty, so I sent her OT, I think she ready
Let her take a pic in the chain, now she think she heavy
Out in Cali’, know some Salvadorians’ll bring machetes

Huh, yeah, bitch
Real life, yeah, this real life
Huh, it’s real life
Ayy, ShittyBoyz