Joe Dumars
Joe Dumars

BabyTron - Joe Dumars Lyrics

2

Joe Dumars Lyrics

(Getta Beats, It's BlueStrip, baby)
(yeah, ayy, ShittyBoyz) yeah
We'll bring that to yo house, Joe Dumars
Okay, yeah, okay
Fuck around, yeah (ShittyBoyz)
Yeah (ShittyBoyz)

We'll bring the field to yo house
Joe Dumars put that dub down
I could pull that off of two cards
Shooting jacks out, passing bags
I'm a two guard
What's up with the diss songs?
Don't know who you are
That's the type of shit to
Get you stomped, nah, probably shot
You could shoot a shot with my bitch, nah
Probably block
Hunnid shots left him Human Torched
We got his body hot soon as she wake up
She gon' treat me like a lollipop
You got demon DNA? Oh, till you angel dust
Talking 'bout you need an eighth? Oh
I need eighty bucks site crazy, BIN crazy
Just grabbed a crazy punch
I ain't gon' lie, if you ain't us, boy
You lame as fuck wild 'N Out
Stay with the cannon like I'm Chico Bean
If you ain't gang thеn
It's fuck you, bitch, i'm CeeLo Green
Looking at my pop like a scoreboard
I need a three
This a one dip, twеnty seconds
I could flee the scene it's 2020, boy
You finished if you upping eight bands
That's damn near his ass is
Blade dancing in some Ray-Bans
Mirror tint, one night
Two bitches in the same trance
Stan got two sticks
He gon' fire like a caveman
Tryna fight? Must be from Atlanta
You a brave man
I be chilling, ain't gotta get off
I let my chain dance
Cash App flips kinda slow
But you'll get paid, ma'am
See you got a lil' money now
But you the same ham
Eyes low, swinging sticks
I look like Ichiro Suzuki
I be tripping, Amiri stitching dripping
This shit off the Gucci real scam vet
Please don't ever think that I'm a newbie
White sock, block a ham but, bitch
I'm Lillard when I shoot
I don't trip up with the Visas
I'm a wizard when I use them
Put that bitch in drywall, boy, you see me
Why your trigger neutral?
Can't get you hip but you better
Go and get into it
Pro scammer turned to Pro Tools
I done switched to music
When you getting money
It's like bitches getting hit by Cupid
Great credit score but I think
This lil' bitch is stupid
Every bitch turned they back on
Me somewhere in the sewage
Just know if I ever go
I'm up there getting to it
Just know yo bitch only yo
Bitch when she with you (yeah)
Just know I'm Tron Wick
I'll hit you with a pistol (yeah)
Just know yo main mans
He can't even switch to (yeah)
Just know I'm leaving hoes sick
Get yo tissue (yeah)
In a store, tell a bougie bitch like
"Pick yo Clear Fruit"
This ain't Fornite but if it was
You'd be Tier 2
Art brought the Laffy Taffy in
I can't hear you (Damn)
In my live off a fake page, you so weird
Dude fear of God on
You dumb as fuck you think I fear you
Ain't no hustle in yo blood and
I ain't standing near you
Thirty-four shots
Fuck around and Paul Pierce you
Talking 'bout a Demon
Really Saturn when you steer through
2000s baby, young as hell with oldhead money
Big bank take lil' bank, cash on me, ten
Dummy come and get yo bitch
She irritating tryna vent to me
Lil' bitch ew
Got a man out here head hunting
'018, me and Stan was in the Benz thumbing
Everybody talking down on me
I'm ahead of 'em
Mike Amiris got a big loaf
I heard you bread crumbing
Ca California king
My ex bitch out here bed bugging

Copyright(s): Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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