Lyrics | BabyTron and RTB MB | Lavar Ball

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Lyric cover art

Bin Reaper 2

•

2021

Lavar Ball

BabyTron

RTB MB

Lyrics

(Damn, JakeSand)

Disrespectful as hell, for real huh (Rado)

Pissin' with the door open while

I'm at your bitch house

When I walk up in the living room

I kick the kids out scammer to a rapper

Had to fuck around and switch routes

Miles Bridges, when I hear it's

Up, I got big bounce, huh

Ball so much, it should be my last name

(Lavar) telescope on it

I ain't shootin' at the stars

You know your shit a bucket

Can't be vroomin' in that car

Hutch did the jewelry

Got her droolin' off the charm sloppy roll

Got the Ksubis lookin like a Garda truck

When I'm in the iso, boy

It's hard to guard me up face card hot

I walk in and turn the party up

You won't catch me in the weight room

But my Cartis buff

You won't catch me, nah

You probably will catch me in the bank

Dickhead, catch the dub and hold the

L up in his face you trappin' two 'bows

Unky sell it in a day rap star

Might catch me in the hood

With felons sippin' drank

Luka Trončić, Sleeve Nash

I'ma change the game

I ain't postin' up off the

Wocky when I fade away

Made some shit today, you livin' day-to day

Bin Master, Punch God

I damn near got a database

Gang, niggas got to dissin'

So I bought a K today

I'm with BabyTron, I hit your baby moms

Sippin' Gatorade

Got so much clips in this Glock

Give 'em a taper fade

Play against Bron and sell some

Work where the Lakers play

Pour two fours of that Kobe Bryant

Now I'm finna face an eight

Hit your bitch for thirty minutes, timeout

I had to take a break

It's a problem if I hit your Backwood

And I don't make a face

It's 6K for the walkthrough, lil' bitch

I gotta make some pape'

I ain't got no heart

I get happy when I tax a fiend

I can't trust a bitch

She went behind my back like Zach LaVine

My bookbag

It got some racks in it and a pack of green

I just made a movie with your main bitch

I ain't practice schemes

I be in the weight room, Tron

And my Cartis tough

I ain't get no Plan B for

Her 'cause I hardly fucked

Type of nigga catch the plug lackin'

If he charge me up put some dog shit in her

We got Marley stuffed

Ball so much, it should be my last name

(Lavar) telescope on it

I ain't shootin' at the stars

You know your shit a bucket

Can't be vroomin' in that car

Hutch did the jewelry

Got her droolin' off the charm sloppy roll

Got the Ksubis lookin like a Garda truck

When I'm in the iso, boy

It's hard to guard me up face card hot

I walk in and turn the party up

You won't catch me in the weight room

But my Cartis buff

PUBLISHERS

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, EMPIRE PUBLISHING

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