Por Favor – BabyTron

Undefined
Huh, ayy, huh, ayy

Wouldn’t trip on a bitch if I was OT
He ain’t make it to the ER, left him OV
All this Off-White on, I might OD
I done threw the white lows on, I got coke feet

Forty-thousand on me, finna get a four for four
Spanish clerk and she cold, hit her with the por favor
Had the Glock up in school, you could catch me horsing dorks
.223s got the Holy Ghost, we’ll send ’em towards the Lord

The opps, they’ll never win, they the Clippers now
I just scammed a dumb white boy, I’m a nigga now?
They got him gassed up, huh, boy think he Hitler now
I just want the neck, old bitch think I miss her now

I was out in Cali tripping, fuck around, got sunburn
Cut into the lil’ bitch like, “How the fuck that tongue work?”
Before I pay for the shit, I gotta try a punch first
Granny smacked the shit out me, I spent thirteen on one shirt

Ran it up in Tennessee, I think I pulled a groin or something
You ain’t sucking dick or balls? Better [?] or something
I could probably win a split decision, how I score with punches
If you see me, I’m with BabyTron, that ain’t Dora cousin

If I see an opp with the chop, I’ma boink his shit
If he think he got the plug or something, I’ma yoink his shit
At this point, I walk up into Saks and I point at shit
Spike walkers with the glitter, on some flamboyant shit

I think the opps practice homosexuality
‘Cause they be dick sucking, I don’t know why them niggas mad at me
At the set fucking up the cheese, I’m a cavity
Bitch, I’m up-up, I do not believe in gravity

Bitch called me white boy, had to fuck her with some rhythm
Why my white-ass granny always fucking up some chicken?
New fridge dispense Wock’, got me slumped up in the kitchen
Going eighty in the ‘Hawk, damn, my stomach got to flipping

Trackhawks, Track.2s, Balenciaga track shoes
Bitch little, ass fat, I like ’em with the tattoos
I done made her cat ooze when I made the ‘Cat zoom
Unkie out there playing with them bricks like how Shaq do

Tryna be Kung Fu Panda? There’s the bamboo
This motherfucker fucks up houses, ask his last roof
You better not play your last song, you’d get your ass booed
Been a motherfucking skywalker, you can ask Luke

I can kick his ass with it ’cause the chop got a leg on it
Bitch, when I whip this motherfucker out, put yo head on it
Funny how we caught him in his Charger, left him dead on it
Bro really cut with that Glock, he done bled on it

You thinking ’bout that lil’ bitch, she thinking ’bout me
Bitch, I’m thinking ’bout the money, that’s the thing about me
You could be a Hungry Howie, still wouldn’t think about cheese
Why the fuck all summer I was thinking ’bout sleeves?

Mama said get a job, I was thinking ’bout Steve
Kinda wanna get a Porsche, I be thinking ’bout speed
It’s a button in this fucker, I ain’t thinking ’bout keys
In that rusty-ass Honda, boy thinking that he Dee

Mask on, not ’cause Corona, this bitch breath stank
If the flash hit him, he gon’ have to get a x-ray
Cool kid stunting on ’em, throw me in the X-Games
Roman Reigns chop, do a move and watch his neck break

Feel like Elvis with the Loubs on, I’m a flashy fuck
Smack for some jacks then I go and pick the package up
He got hit up top with the chop, he should’ve Daffy Ducked
Sick this two man plan like we ain’t actually up