BabyTron - Playmaker Lyrics

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 Smit's
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)