Birds of a feather flock together, gang in Goose coats
I was lil’ dawg, now my pape’ like Manute Bol
10K a day, all blues, this a new roll
Unky wilding, selling school buses in a school zone
Fiften hunnid on the hoodie, this some new Chrome
Fit seven thousand even when I got no shoes on
Bicep in the Backwood, this b#tch too strong
Undertaker, I’ll slide down, give ’em a tombstone
On the freeway chopped up, in that [?]
Fully switch got autotune, I call it “T-Pain”
Three chains straight from Hutch, yours from eBay
Reach for this chain? Leave ’em stretched like it’s pregame
You can’t slide down, you in that shooter with the cheap tires
I might burn Sam’s Club down, every piece fire
Ex b#tch cooked, had to leave her in the deep fryer
Four thousand on the buffalos, don’t think these wires
Sundays, I should’ve been in church but I was bag chasing
Some day yo time might come, you better have patience
One way up on the east side, we just Scat racing
Up pape’ on some haters, leave ’em with the mad faces
Lil’ gang some test dummies, they’ll crash out
Something like Lamar, I’ll end up in yo stash house
It don’t mean he ain’t a cop just ’cause ain’t no badge out
Life a gamble, I’m just on the road, could never crap out
Trackhawk, Trackhawk, sh#t, we finna stab out
Back to back in traffic, sh#t, I guess that’s what they mad ’bout
Backpack Boyz, Bluegatti, finna pass out
If you ain’t up a hunnid, you can shut yo damn mouth
High as hell, three hunnid dollar meal at the Crab House
Down looking bad ’round this b#tch, help yo mans out
They used to talk down a lot, I heard they fans now
Your favorite rapper’s favorite rapper, whipping bands out
Yo mans in there telling sh#t
‘Vette with the trunk in the front like an elephant
Japanese Fanta, thousand dollar medicine
Engine, it’s a Hellephant, hear it when I’m revving it
Dog sh#t Militia, you are not a member
Hitman caught two opps and they got popped together
I might play the new fit tomorrow, gotta watch the weather
Courtside Pistons game, I’ll wear Crocs wherever
Ride ’round, trail bottom Strikers, you be dumb to try it
Every morning 2018, I went and punched Verizon
Pape’ on his head, had my shooter f#cking mummify him
Dawg a real b#tch, ten years, he been run and hiding
Louis V backpack on, it’s a hun’ inside
Starbucks cup, crushed ice and some mud inside it
Let me hear it’s up, dumb f#ck, bet I jump the highest, huh
Either road running or I’m catching flights
Said you paid well, let’s go to Hutch and go test yo ice
That’s how we’ll check the price
Za Man, gotta face a zip to go to bed at night
In first place, had to rose gold my medals
Mister Make It There Quick, got my foot up on the pedal
Got the sleeves up today, I had to show the bezel
.223 slamming, I’ll leave it to the pros to wrestle
Everybody got some money now? sh#t, I smell cap
Mad as f#ck, where the f#ck the mail at?
You always in the ashtray like, “Where the tail at?”
Plug pulled up with some b#llsh#t, I can’t sell that
Yeah, the dubs feel good but you gon’ see some L’s, Jack
How the f#ck the engine barking? Riding in a Hellcat
Smack the sh#t out his #ss like, “Go and tell that”
Scam God, he waiting on his pape’, take his L back
Ayy, ShittyBoyz
Dog sh#t Militia
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BabyTron Lyrics – Manute Bol