Playmaker – BabyTron

Bitch, yeah (Yeah)
It’s BabyTron, bitch (It’s BabyTron, bitch)
Yeah (Yeah)

Pull up on your bitch and hit her with the, “Is you ready, ho?”
Ruth Chris, came a long way from SpaghettiOs
Unkie went and got his Prezzi froze off a heavy load
If they try to block me at the rim, turn my Jelly on
Feeling like Poseidon, watch the fit drip
Shooter pull up with a mullet like he Rik Smits
Shooter pull up just to pull it then he switch clips
They don’t wanna see me touchdown, tryna squib kick
It’s a dirty game, call a dirty play
Me and Stan Splash Bros, we got Klay and Curry range
Before I hit the road, tell my girl, “Don’t be worried, bae”
Mr. Run-It-Up, I can show you how in thirty days
Really I can show you right now if you pape ready
Money getting big so you know that the hate heavy
Eye down the four times scope and my aim steady
Foreign kicks like Barcelona, sick I came Messi
Couldn’t make this up if I wanted to, this real life
Wouldn’t tuck this shit anywhere, boy, this real ice
That’s a one in that two liter, boy, that’s still Sprite
Reach for this chain? You just know you gon’ get killed, right?
Like, the clerk know I’m scamming, don’t ya?
Said he got cheese, well that’s what you call “capperoni”
Can’t relate, I got a big stupid blue stack up on me
2015, was on a mission, True jacket on me
Real spill, think about it, boy, stop it with the cap
When I work magic, ain’t no rabbit popping out a hat
Shout-out Unkie, probably somewhere with a pot up in a trap
In a Demon rocking Palm Angels, opposites attract
Leave me ‘lone, currently I’m hopping in a bag
When I was sitting on the bench, I was plotting on the stats
Feeling too safe at Somerset, shopping with the MAG
Yeah, he was at the top but now the bottom where he at
I ain’t even gotta say no names
Fucking with the crowd, young bull, just play yo games
He still wearing team J’s, that just ain’t okay
Shout-out Herbo ‘nem, whites on, it’s a Fazo day
Blues in the bag, hands cheesy, boy, that’s Cool Ranch
Oh, you finally made a ten? Okay, cool, champ
.223 bald fade ’em like it’s boot camp
Would’ve thought my pops the mailman ’cause I’m too stamped
With the mafia blowing ‘Woods, chilling, throwing darts
Chrome on the tee but I swear I got a frozen heart
Luka Trončić, guarantee this bitch on the charts
High as hell, might die coming down like I’m Owen Hart
RIP, ain’t no disrespect
50K on me, finna trip like I missed a step
Put a @ on that comment, why that shit so indirect?
M on my mind, was on my pants, boy, I miss the Mitt
Juu walking in with big black chunky Triple S
You talking ’bout scoring buckets? You ain’t even dribble yet
I might drop a hundred first quarter then go sit the rest
Bitch, yo boyfriend a ho, that’s my lil’ neph’
Ten in the morning, made ten, you still getting dressed
Unc’ do his opps like his pills, he gon’ get ’em pressed
All the blogs just now hit, bitch, I been the best
Bitch said I’m broke? Lil’ ho off of crystal meth
Who the fuck could fuck with me, like, really?
Hutch chain, tricolor, life chilly
I’m a GOAT in the field like billy
Tron Iguodala, got a fucking .9 with me
What does one GC, bitch, swipe fifty
See an opp and robbed his ass like those might fit me
Leave her on the interstate if she drive iffy
Next year I’m telling Johnny Dang to ice kit me

Bitch, yeah, ayy (Ayy)
Ayy (Ayy)
Ayy, ShittyBoyz (Ayy, ShittyBoyz)