lirik lagu babytron – sith lord
[intro]
mhh mh mhhhhhhh mh mh mh mhhh
aye, aye, aye (oh sh~t that’s a dannyg beat)
[verse 1]
do the dash in a scat, fly it like its xwing
b~tch i’m mr. pull up to the bank and make the check ping
back to back champ, yo team losing like the 10th seed
i’ll cut the traction off and make the vette’ squeak
ksubi jean rocker, ridin’ round with some bean poppers
everybody five plus, we don’t do the team hoppers
scam vet, 2016 i woulda’ green dot her
7.62 demolish sh~t, this a tree chopper
punchin’ like a boxer, ion box but we can box you up
3.5 of jelly bean pie, takin toxic puffs
how is you the source, placed an order, you ain’t got enough
dog sh~t militia, crackin’ cards got my pockets stuffed
made some sh~t of that one sh~t, shout out donald trump
samsung freezer, ten minutes, turn that wock to slush
it’s gon’ be a long night if i pop the trunk
grab a coat, it’s a cold night when i rock the buffs
[bridge]
you didn’t know, it’s time to get to it
bro hittin’ whippits, clutchin’ glockie in this b~tch zooted
real shooter, only swish too
tool got a ladder, hit his crib tryna improve it
[verse 2]
chop talkin, wock dropper, swervin’ in the newest demon
i just hit the mall again cause i was gucci feenin’
if we ever had a conversation, i was ruby speakin’
better have that same energy when that toolie swingin’
head noddin, cause this song a hit
crack head spillin’ red on him, i be d~gg~n’ kicks
upgraded 10 on it, finna’ frost the kicks
.223’s knock the dreads off him if he talkin sh~t
vanilla giffies in the trunk, in the rental road runnin’
beamed up, darth maul, bro double pole clutchin’
you blowin up her phone, i got her in here toe touchin’
this drum mag real as me, it’s a whole hunnid’
head to toe, check her down, like a louie mannequin
skywalkin’ off the runtz, i feel like luke and anakin
drip god, d~mn near a pool i’m standin’ in
in the newest pair of crocs, blow, scoopin packages
if it’s up, we gon’ handle it
uncle scam, best believe that i’m taxin’ him
this sh~t gettin easy, ion need the practicin’
you gon’ end up head on the curb if you flash a bl!ck
in my air forces like a jedi
i pull up from wherever, b~tch i got some dead eye
wide body, hoggin’ two lanes this a red eye
he said i won’t hit his b~tch, but bet i
lemme stop, cookin up, betty crock
dime bag copper, that’s you boy, ion petty shop
lookin’ like i got expelled in these fendi flops
thigh pad in these miri’ jeans, lost a heavy knot
catch him at the light, we gon’ leave him with a totaled whip
ion stress no more, cuz i know i’m it
the sauce ain’t for sale, that sh~t over with
heard yo unckie, cryin’ in the trap, tryna hold a brick
[outro]
old ass, poor ass, b~tch, aye sh~ttyboyz
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