Paul Bearer – BabyTron

(Enrgy made this one)
Smoking, oh my God

Smoking Swisher leafs ’cause the Backwoods fucked up
Look at my neck, light show, bitch, I’m Hutch’d up
Turn my hustle to the max, bitch, I ain’t luck up
Three sixth of Runtz, you get stuck off of one puff
Touchdown, that’s a six out here, hut, hut
So many dunks in my closet, don’t know what’s what
Point it at his toes, turn his Yeezys into Foam Runners
Why the fuck you put the cuffs on her? She a known runner
Three five, Durantula, bitch, I only blow thunder
High as hell on the roof, dripping like a broke gutter
I’ll do the dash and crash this bitch, I got full coverage
On the block with the big B’s, I think the hood buzzing
Shoot the baby Drac’ one hand, it got the wood jumping
Rap star, you might catch me somewhere in yo hood clutching
Walked out crispy, feeling like I’m Kidd today
Doing sixty, pouring Kesha, shit, I had to hit the breaks
Ain’t a shovel, P90, it’s gon’ dig his grave
Deuce in my Gatorade, I’m shooting tryna win the game
(Ayy)
Trackhawk damn near broke my neck tryna take off
Boy, I wish they would, do the race and shake the Jakes off
2021, I copped a mower, cut the snakes off
Dealership, new whip, I told ’em take the breaks off
When brodie slide, it’s a hit like a Drake song
Trendsetter, not a wave rider, I create sauce
On my way to it right now, I can’t wait long
Look me in my mirror tint, you can clearly see you’re losing
Look at yo bitch, why she staring? Boy, I think she choosing
Look at yo shoes, boy, you broke, who you think you fooling?
Bitch let me send her up in Sprint, shit, I think she stupid
We gon’ pop him in his Cartis if he think he buff
Orange and brown Yeezy 350s look like Reese Cups
Doggie can’t buy an eighthy so he taking breezy puffs
Pull up, burn him like some alcohol since he think he cut
Looking like the auto shows, Scats irking up the block
Full court press, slap the floor, turn it up a notch
Spilling Wocks on my sneaks, look like detergent on my socks
Doggie laying in his bed crying, hurting ’bout a thot
Can’t relate though
Met my one plug in Mexico, I paid him pesos
Seen my one opp, I ain’t say shit, I gave him halo
Mike Amiris, bitch see my jeans like, “Where they make those?”
Maison Margiela, I got paint toes
Bankroll so fucking big that it can’t fold
Hunnid tucked, if I get caught, that’s the case closed
You can go home with them Xannies, we don’t take those
You can go home in them Converse, we don’t wear them
Told bro like, “When we pull up, no, you can’t spare them”
Fry his top with the chop, fuck around, electric chair him
Yeah, the Glocks’ something like these Nike sneaks, we gon’ air ’em (Okay)
Undertaker, I don’t wrestle, I’m with Paul Bearer
Soaring in the Track’, 150, think the ‘Hawk scared her
So many red lines poured, we typing all errors
Wintertime, I’m a road running Nike jog wearer
Summertime, I’m the type to drop the top and hit the hood
Eighty dollar eighthy, zaza, you can’t hit this ‘Wood
At Benihana’s, told the bitch make sure my shrimp is cooked
Timmy Turner, strapped up, boy, I wish he would

Hey, ShittyBoyz
What up, Enrgy?