BabyTron – DEEZ NUTS! Lyrics

Album on MegaTron 2

[Intro]
Ayy

[Verse]
Gang five deep, splash around like the Great Lakes
Why you uppin’ funny money? Why you thumbin’ fake pape’?
(Helluva made this beat, baby)
Do that got a CO2 tank? Why the fuck you totin’ fake Drac’?
Shoppin’ off of Alibaba, why you rockin’ fake Bape?
Karo, Karo, you sippin’ fake drank
Oh, okay, I see what’s goin’ on, boy, you fake-fake
I just made some real pape’ with a fake name
Tryna act like BabyTron, like, oh, okay, you fake James
Eatin’ off the banks, but I’ll stop to take a steak break
Amiris with the bandanas, lookin’ like I gangbang
What’s that one saying?
Sit your five-dollar ass down before I make change
No fakin’
201 plug on Telegram, he speak Croatian
Looking for his badge number, heard he givin’ infomation
Huh, congrats
Huh, congrats, congrats, you just played yourself, hang yourself
You should take the switch, turn it on and go and spank yourself
Yappin’ like the head honcho, must’ve went and ranked yourself
Wrestlin’ with the monkey on my back, I’m tryna win the title
Preachin’ in the booth, you would’ve thought these verses in the Bible
You would think she Pocahontas, lil’ bitch, she givin’ tribal
Zero losses on my record, Scottie Pippen in the finals
BR1 and 2 on wax, come and get a vinyl
Every time I throw a touchdown, that bitch a spiral
Treat these hoes like water bottles how they get recycled
I’ve been travelin’ all week, this my sixth arrival
Bitch head fire, my shoes got blew off
Ridin’ with that— fah-fah-fah, let’s have a shoot off
That one shit’ll turn your titi into Rudolph
I know you read the shirt, shit, it’s hard to cut root off
He was grabbin’ on the blick, but didn’t bust and gave it blue balls
In middle school, I was trippin’ salmon to the blue hall
Man, I really hate it when your boo call
‘Cause that’s the type of shit that really piss my boo off
Street ballin’, shit, it’s time to cut the rules off
Poured a deuce of that juice, I’m finna snooze off
Talkin’ for no reason, I’m just thinkin’, “Who’s dog?”
Get him out of here, point him to the door
When it’s time for a skit, I’m gon’ point him to the floor
Naw, I ain’t pointin’ at you, bro
The bitches ’round you kinda cute, I’m only pointin’ at the hoes
I can’t take her on a trip, she get annoyin’ on the road
That— ‘ll destroy a junkie’s nose
If your stash matched your height, you would be on Muggsy Bogues
Shit, my pockets paralyzed, but— yeah
Shit, my pockets paralyzed, I walk around with bloody toes
Told you that the Quagen break was why I had a runny nose
An elbow of Joke’s Up, you’d think I’m smokin’ funny bone
Got Haribo flavors with these hoes, I give ’em gummy though
Chopper knocked the hair up off him, Kobe eight to twenty-four
Like, ain’t it twenty-eight to one? Or like, fifty to six?
Catch him out of town, you’d probably still see Jimmy with blick
The way the junkies returnin’, you’d think the rizzie the mix
Skied up in Philli’, motherfucker thought I was Kwame
Motherfucker thought that I was Kwame doin’ all this juggin’
Doin’ all this goddamn scammin’, all this damn hammin’
Asked if it’s designer, don’t you feel the goddamn fabric?
Bro a demon, shit, he swears to Satan
Why you sellin’ pints of green? They only cost a pair of Asics
If you had the sauce I got, you’d probably have to wear an apron
In interrogation with an agent look like Sarah Palin
Got a thing for them light-skinned, curly hair, with braces
I can’t help it
Huh, team player, I ain’t selfish
These nuts, booga-wooga-wooga