BabyTron - Cheat Code 2 Lyrics

Dog Shit Militia, up some pape, yeah
Dog Shit Militia, up pape and we
Dog Shit Militia
I can up the stick or up some pape yeah
Ha ha, yeah helluva made this beat, baby
Ha ha, yeah

Dog Shit Militia
I can up the stick or up some pape
If I hit a ramp in the 'Cat
Can damn near jump a lake
I put my pain in this Wild Rum
That's why I stuffed the eighth
I'll leave yo dukes' paycheck and
And I'm still underage
I spent tuition on a Hutch chain
And I dropped out of college
Riding 'round with gang
Chop tucked in case we got a problem
Scam star
Don't ask me 'bout no pots 'cause
I am not around 'em
Same person you would pass it to can't
Gеt a lob up out me
Hardbodied, ten toеs, bitch
I'm solid to the grave
I fucked up the trust with my
Girl but promised I'll change
Brodie don't smoke
He got a baby bottle for the pain
Was rookie of the year two years
Ago then polished up my game
European sneakers
Pull up shooting shit like Türkoğlu
The engine barking like a hellhound
When I'm skrrting through
Bro'll pull up shooting shells out
Off the turtle juice
The hoes can't peep the cap but I
Can see the perp in you feel like Bret Hart
Hit the lil' bitch with a leglocker
You won't see a crease when I step, nah
These the dead stockers
Told my bitch we eating Eddie V's, like
Fuck some Red Lobster
Jule tripping out the sun roof
That's my headshotter
762s twist his 'fro up
These some dreadlockers
Drawls fancy than a bitch
Four hundred on some red boxers
Titi fake some back pain and then
It's to the next doctor
Ain't never sold a drug so it's
Shout-out to them check droppers

First of all, a couple of things number one
Luka's the truth luka's
The truth luka's the best i'm gon'
Say it on national television
Luka's the best white boy I've seen since
Larry Bird this brother is something special

Huh, yeah if I catch you in that droptop
You gon' get yo top dropped
It's backdoor season
You ain't even hear that knock-knock
Wock' fizzle in the sixty forty
Like some Pop Rocks
Send him sixty then we send him forty
Left the block hot
On the dark web punching like
I'm Oscar De La Hoya
Got my bitch at the brib
Throwing lobster in the boil
Better know what seed you plant before
You drop it in the soil
Blowing zaza, foreign whip
It take exotic oil
Stop saying that you sip lean
You nodding off on one
I ain't got no storage in my phone
I cropped him with my gun before EDD
Ain't never seen y'all pop out with a dub
Nine months later
None of y'all can pop out with a slug
Unc' said if he ain't in the
Kitchen then his wrist broke
Sixth grade, had the Chuck Taylors
Now it's Rick Owens
Bitch, I'm sick of all this fucking playing
Put yo lips on it
Yeah, Punch God, every one hitting
Think my fists swollen
Good on the seven, ask Rixh and Hect
Born broke but I'ma be rich to death
Hundred dollar three five, bitch
I take rich-ass breaths
Christian Loubies hit for fourteen
I take rich-ass steps
Huh, this a rich-ass life
Self-scan hit for 5K, this a rich-ass swipe
Off White Virgil Jordan 1s
These some rich-ass Nikes
If we catch dawg in left field
Get his bitch-ass right
Lando got like thirty on his neck
On some light shit
He asked where the plug was, I told him
"By the light switch"
Bitch, I got the ups
I could dunk if I was 5'6"
Hop on that fucking MacBook
Then overnight shift smoking Gary Payton
Put my lungs in the fucking glove
One up top, riding 'round, lil' bitch
I'm one of one
Heard you got a glitch, I got one
Let's go run for run
Out of town on that one, got my duffy stuffed

Yeah, bitch
Ha ha, I'm a real life cheat code
Huh, MVP season luka Trončić shit
You know what the fuck going on
They can't fuck with me
Could drop thirty on any night
Triple double type shit
Ayy, ayy, ShittyBoyz (313 Mafia)