Mr.ReRock – BabyTron

Hokatiwi
Yeah (ShittyBoyz)

Spent eight on a French, now my bitch want a poodle
I’ma keep the stick tucked, I ain’t even got a shooter
Got a couple hitmen that specialize in opp removal
You the type to go say you sliding and not go do it
She just gave me head till my toes cracked and knees locked
Zombie to the lil’ bitch, she gon’ have to detox
One item, made him pay twice, I’m Mr. Re-Rock
We could be last in the standings, wouldn’t team hop
Bitch caught me cheating with her friend like, “Who head better?”
Name hold heavy weight on it, I’m a bench presser
When the wintertime comes, I’m a Nike tech dresser
Tap the card in, it’s scam if she press “enter”
You don’t punch, you just talk about it, you like Joe Rogan
Run it up fast, you be jogging, you in slow motion
He don’t ever get no pussy, we gon’ put the hoes on him
That is not no real money if the roll folding
Run it up, he can’t keep up, where’s his Gatorade?
You a dick sucker, woke up drinking Hatorade
Finna come roll big clock like I’m Flavor Flav
For two thousand dollars, I’ll show you how to drain a bank
For three thousand dollars, you can get a verse with the vid
For four thousand dollars, get him murked, knock him off the grid
Need five thousand if you tryna work with my BIN
Six jacks, 6K, I’m turnt when I turn ’em in
First class Delta and I’m shooting out of [?]
The way he keep a stick in the city, I think Stan’s Cabrero
Think yo lil’ bitch wanna cheat ’cause her ass be staring
I ain’t say the trap dead but it’s the scammer era
MacBook open, Backwood rolling
Three minutes later, now I’m Backwood smoking
Back to that MacBook, I crack juggs on it
Punch a lil’ bitch a bag if she act good for it
Her head so mean, why I got a smile on my face?
Don’t miss the second wave, better file every state
“Real Punch Champ”, that’s a title you cannot take
Shooter got flavor, should he grab the rifle or the Drac’?
Paid too hundred dollars just to bite into the steak
Three five of guava cake, now I’m flying into space
Quickest way to get cut off is lying to my face
If you see me out then I’m probably driving to the bank
Yeah, you ate at Fleming’s but you couldn’t leave a tip
Really what a bitch need, I won’t never need a bitch
You might get confirmations but you never seen ’em ship
Rap now but I can get back on my Visa shit
Blew ten kicks, Y-3, Adidas fit
Sent yo bitch to the Coney on a chicken pita trip
Pull up, sub you out, on my Jim Leyland shit
Unc’ triple A, pull up if you need a fix
Hack this, hack that, I be cracking firewalls
Walk into the store like, “Ma’am, I’m tryna buy ’em all”
Whole time I got a blank card, finna slide ’em all
If she calls the boss, I’m running out and then I’m driving off
That’s Gorilla Glue #4, you ain’t high at all
You don’t really live that shit at all, you just type it, dawg
4K in Hutch, buffs whiter than some Tylenol
Got my balance to a ninety-nine, ain’t got time to fall

Yeah, bitch, yeah
Got my balance to a ninety-nine, ain’t got time to fall
Huh, ain’t got time to fall
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ShittyBoyz
Her head so mean, why I got a smile on my face?
Don’t miss the second wave, better file every state
“Real Punch Champ”, that’s a title you cannot take
Shooter got flavor, should he grab the rifle or the Drac’?
Paid too hundred dollars just to bite into the steak
Three five of guava cake, now I’m flying into space
Quickest way to get cut off is lying to my face
If you see me out then I’m probably driving to the bank