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Manute Bol

BabyTron

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Fuck the fire, we got grease Birds of a feather flock together, gang in Goose coats I was lil' dog, now my pape' like Manute Bol 10K a day, all blues, this a new roll (Ooh, it's BlueStrip, baby) Unky wilding, selling school buses in the school zone Fifteen hundred on the hoodie, this some new Chrome Fit seven thousand even when I got no shoes on Bicep in the Backwood, this bitch too strong Undertaker, I'll slide down, give 'em a tombstone On the freeway, chopped up in that E-lane Fully switch got Auto-Tune, I call it T-Pain Three chains straight from Hutch, yours from eBay Reach for this chain, leave 'em stretched like it's pregame You can't slide down, you in that shooter with the cheap tires I might burn Sam's Club down, every piece fire Ex bitch cooked, had to leave her in the deep fryer Four thousand on the buffalos, don't think these wires Sundays, I should've been in church, but I was bag chasing Someday, your time might come, you better have patience One way up on the east side, we just Scat racing Up pape' on some haters, leave 'em with the mad faces Lil' gang some test dummies, they'll crash out Something like Lamar, I end up in your stash house It don't mean he ain't a cop just 'cause ain't no badge out Life a gamble, I'm just on the road, could never crap out Trackhawk, Trackhawk, shit, we finna stab out Back to back in traffic, shit, I guess that's what they mad 'bout Backpack Boyz, Bluegatti, finna pass out If you ain't up a hundred, you can shut your damn mouth High as hell, three hundred dollar meal at the Crab House Down looking bad 'round this bitch, help your mans out They used to talk down a lot, I heard they fans now Your favorite rapper's favorite rapper, whipping bands out Your mans in there telling shit 'Vette with the trunk in the front like an elephant Japanese Fanta, thousand dollar medicine Engine, it's a hellephant, hear it when I'm revving it Dog Shit Militia, you are not a member Hitman caught two opps and they got popped together I might play the new fit tomorrow, gotta watch the weather Courtside Pistons game, I'll wear Crocs wherever Riding 'round, trail bottom Strikers, you'd be dumb to try it Every morning 2018, I went and punched Verizon Pape' on his head, had my shooter fucking mummify him Dog a real bitch, ten years, he been run and hiding Louis V backpack on, it's a hun' inside it Starbucks cup, crushed ice and some mud inside it Let me hear it's up, dumb fuck, bet I jump the highest, huh Either road running or I'm catching flights Said you paid well, let's go to Hutch and go and test your ice That's how we'll check the price Za man, gotta face a zip to go to bed at night In first place, had to rose gold my medals Mister Make It There Quick, got my foot up on the pedal Got the sleeves up today, I had to show the bezel .223s slamming, I'll leave it to the pros to wrestle Everybody got some money now? Shit, I smell cap Mad as fuck, where the fuck the mail at? You always in the ashtray like, "Where the tail at?" Plug pulled up with some bullshit, I can't sell that Yeah, the dubs feel good, but you gon' see some L's, Jack How the fuck the engine barking riding in the Hellcat? Smack the shit out his ass like, "Go and tell that" Scam God, he waiting on his pape', take his L back Ayy, ShittyBoyz Phew, Dog Shit Militia --- Manute Bol - BabyTron

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※ Songwriter

James Johnson III, Dax Terry

https://onlyrics.co/en/babytron/manute-bol?lang=en

Submitted on January 24, 2023 by Anonymous

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BabyTron
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Release Name or Album Name

Megatron

Release Date

March 4, 2022

Language

language English

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hundred down some pape' fuck back shit this it's your i'll bitch thousand just with that like leave might they ain't

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