No Jumper – BabyTron

(Ayo, Mark A)
Yeah
You missing clutch shots in the- bitch I mean, hold on
Yeah, huh, yeah

You missing free shots in the clutch, you like Paul George
Bitch tugging on my dick, I told her, “Bae, it’s all yours”
Turn my bully on her, get to shooting, I’m a small forward
She been eating dick for seven hours, damn, my balls sore
Linked up with Mark, every time I do that, it’s a classic
Scoring champ, pulled the MAC-11 out and hit his basket
ShittyBoyz, we on the Lodge tryna see who whip the fastest
Coach always knew I was a shooter, brought that bitch to practice
Three-point challenge, me and gang pulling up from deep
Dee said, “It’s pape’ on the floor, pull up on the East”
I’m with hellhounds, think my bullies need a leash
Like it’s bail out, chain water, fuck a Jesus piece
Fuck, I’m losing balance off this zaza
7.62s, .223s for the ra-ra
Magician with the Visas, take the 101 and voilà
Pretty bitch ain’t got a chest, I had to buy her tatas
Wockiana in the Mountain Dew, it’s a Baja smash
On-court coach, but right now, no, I’m not gon’ pass
Caught a corn at the movies and we popped his ass
Thinking with his dick, two hoes finna lob his ass
Huh, up top where he finna go
Tron Stockton, see the mailman, that’s a give-and-go
28 Amiris, forty K left me pigeon toed
Three hundred blackouts like a brush, they’ll twist his ‘fro
My salon is cutting bangs while I bust juggs
Blowing Turtle Pie on No Jumper, it was fuck drugs
Thinking that y’all deep, get that seven-seater crunched up
Brodie want revenge, got a Glocky, better tuck something
Pull and put ’em out, someone put him in an ash tray
Something like I’m Jordan, I’ma win it in my last game
Getting famous, some stayed cool, the other half changed
Smart bitch gave me top and left with a half brain
Diving out the whip, shooting silent like I’m Max Payne
Doggy upping twenty K, it somebody tax day
Fuck some pussy and some beef, I’m finna jack chase
Fuck some crab and some lobster, finna have steak
Fuck a taser, fuck a Glocky, I’ma grab K
Test tube freezing, cooking fire, it’s a Lab day
MVP like, shit, what the stats say?
Bitch talking ’bout a ring, can never get my last name
Bitch talking ’bout a ring, ain’t worth a gram of Wedding Cake
In a widebody, finna go so fast, the pedal break
It’s fucked up I had to scam to elevate
It’s fucked up you still worried ’bout the hoes instead of pape’
It’s fucked up, I’m fucked up off the ’42
Four thousand dollar fit, bitch, that’s like forty blues
Looking for some coffee cups, I’m in Tim Hortons blew
If I walk in with my chain, she gon’ more than choose
Huh, swear to God you gon’ more than lose
Crib big as hell, I don’t think you could afford a room
2002 whip you in, you can’t afford a zoom
Thousand dollar cup, act rude, get it poured on you

Huh, ayy, ShittyBoyz
(Ayo, Mark A)
Ayy, ShittyBoyz