BabyTron - Cheat Code 2 lyrics

[Pt. 1] [Intro] Dog sh*t Militia, up some pape, yeah Dog sh*t Militia, up pape and we Dog sh*t Militia, I can up the stick or up some pape Yeah Ha-ha, yeah Helluva made this beat, baby Ha-ha, yeah [Verse 1] Dog sh*t 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, b*tch, I'm solid to the grave I fu*ked 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 sh*t 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' b*tch with a leglocker You won't see a crease when I step, nah, these the dead stockers Told my b*tch we eating Eddie V's, like, fu*k some Red Lobster Jule tripping out the sun roof, that's my headshotter 7.62s twist his 'fro up, these some dreadlockers Drawls fancy than a b*tch, 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 [Bridge] 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 [Pt. 2] [Verse 2] 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 b*tch 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 b*tch, I'm sick of all this fu*king 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, b*tch, 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 b*tch-ass right Lando got like thirty on his neck, on some light sh*t He asked where the plug was, I told him, "By the light switch" b*tch, I got the ups, I could dunk if I was 5'6" Hop on that fu*king MacBook then overnight shift Smoking Gary Payton, put my lungs in the fu*king glove One up top, riding 'round, lil' b*tch, I'm one of one Heard you got a glitch, I got one, let's go one for one Out of town on that one, got my duffy stuffed [Outro] Yeah, b*tch Ha-ha, I'm a real life cheat code Huh, MVP season Luka Trončić sh*t, you know what the fu*k going on They can't fu*k with me Could drop thirty on any night Triple double type sh*t Ayy, ayy, sh*ttyBoyz (313 Mafia)