lirik lagu sada baby - triple threat match
[intro: sk!lla baby]
(ooh, rj)
(it’s lando, your b~tch know, don’t let your b~tch go, n~gga)
(rj always trippin’, man, rj always trippin’, man)
huh?
huh
[verse 1: sk!lla baby]
my big brother got lean in his cup
if the birdman stay on your head, better duck
n~gga, i don’t give a f~ck, i got a big~body benz
full of beans in the trunk, og called me unc’
f~ck hoes, run it up, huh?
just made another bed for these papercuts, i hit eggs for lunch
my k came in clutch, i call that b~tch kobe, ayy
we’ve been ballin’ all year, where our trophy at?
in 2020, i need money and diamonds
she think she got a d n~gga ’cause he lyin’
he cop two, i gave him one on cosignment
if he try to run off, i’m gon’ find him (bah)
four n~ggas ridin’ with a chop, one driver
out lookin’ for the opps, we not ’cause they hidin’
dog never played team sports, she play homis (bah)
he never caught a football, he catch bodies
[verse 2: babytron]
fruit ninja with the chopper, i’ll split his melon
and this b~tch lift slow, send his sh~t to heaven
balenciaga turban, i’ma triple~s it (ayy, ayy, ayy)
talkin’ ’bout the plug, but we know you disconnected (ha, ha)
the slug mr. blessings, i don’t need a b~tch (i don’t)
f~ck punchin’, hit neimans with a visa kick (woo, woo)
you can’t get power, that’s that dr. evil sh~t (ha)
white mountain dew, purple four on some frieza sh~t (ayy, ayy, purple pop)
in a different world, super saiyan, leveled up (woo)
loadin’ up, grabbin’ coins like it’s temple run (bitcoin)
almost broke the crank tryna turn the pressure up
on the wild west, came scat with my weapon tucked
[verse 3: sada baby]
hm, tron came scat, b~tch, i came cuddy, hm
with a cut in that b~tch, smokin’ silly putty, huh
that’s that goo~goo, n~ggas through through, ugh
stuff a blue ‘script in your boo~boo, uh
stuff the whole thing in your boo thing, uh
trap bome back like boomarang, huh
i mean a pack bome back like boomarang
b~tch, i feel like usher, trappin’ through the rain
whole quick of that boy from the eighties, big daddy caine
gold rope jogging suits, all we do is slang
b~tch love gang so much, she let us run the train
threw the extra neck before she left to help me ease my pain
smokin’ real bookie, give a f~ck ’bout your exotic strain
n~ggas want beef, want smoke, it is not a thing
but a chicken wing, we got straps, we’ll let ’em bang
30s, let ’em hang, pop a cali, don’t let it swing
long live yg, i’ma put thirties on a new chain
i got big money, i throw thirties on a coupe thing
a 30 and there’s 40 ’round my neck off a shoestring
outside in atlanta with that b~tch tryna blue flame
my young n~ggas talkin’ brazy for me, they the new wave
you complainin’ ’cause you can’t shoot that b~tch like it’s 2k
ten ‘bows, give them hoes to bro, gone two days
coachin’ n~ggas, skuba wayne casey, i got new plays
top shotta, i’m a big roster, i don’t do waves
nappy headed, i’ll scr~p, i’m ready if you two~faced
or get them n~ggas dropped with that bop, n~gga, who playin’?
that yop stick’ll turn an opp n~gga to a new man, duh
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