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babytron, blp kosher & certified trapper - 3 stooges lyrics
[intro: blp kosher]
(ooh, sh_t, that’s a danny g beat)
water, yeah
(d_mn, jakesand)
[verse 1: blp kosher]
free my dog, he ’bout to go from goulash to panna cotta
i don’t burn, but if i do, then adolf hidin’ in the zaza
i might bulletproof the donkey with ahura mazda
they was laughin’ at them open mics, i just did the fonda
bombed the block, with a switch would’ve think he [?]
opps trash in the bin, why you think they brute
jit was talkin’ ’bout our generation, sh_t i can’t salute
oversaturated out the gate, b_tch, i don’t dilute
and i can’t even hear the hecklin’ when i’m drinkin’ booze
just tron, certified, and i, i’m the first stooge
i’ll poke an opp like larry fine, brother moe too
went from slidin’ stolo, now it’s donuts in the showroom
five racks for a [?], this sh_t hairy, but i like the style
jit sweet, i’m talkin’ watermelon sugar high
back_to_back shows, lost my voice, i’m sippin’ chamomile
i’m in the lab one mile away from 8 mile
[verse 2: certified trapper]
lights hit my sh_t, purple, red, and blue
tie your f_ckin’ hands behind your back, we beheadin’ you
n_gga tried to play me, stretch the boy with some baby food
if i was a ’90s baby, why’d y’all pull out eighty twos?
if i can’t get him, i’ma bl!ck his mans
bl!ck his mans, n_gga play a game, blow a whistle fan
whistle fan, rich as a b_tch, f_ck ’bout what you sayin’
what you sayin’, b_tch tried to slap me, sister, get them hands
get them hands, f_ckin’ back to back, finna get her ran
get her ran, poppin’ at his feet, make that n_gga dance
n_gga dance, choose or you pick a side
pick a side, she ain’t suckin’ d_ck, b_tch, go get a ride
[verse 3: babytron]
you the type to go down with instak!ll
the rp hit me right away, this b_tch an insta pill
if he post the drop on live, we slidin’, that’s an insta’ drill
we is not the same, you post on finsta, i be in the field
white bubble moncleezy lookin’ like the michelin man
new crib, i’m in the big house just like a michigan fan
kalamazoo, flint, saginaw, a2
mackinac down to the city, i be everywhere in michigan, man
he ain’t say a word when we caught him, but he pr_nounced dead
finna drop a three, a deuce of purple, other ounce red
shooter on your head like he tryna count dreads
ayy, slidin’ ’round, the whip got more b_ttons than a remote
expensive habits, rather sip wocky than some patrón
[?], slide the 201 sh_t, then i’m gone
b_tch askin’ why i’m actin’ dumb like she ain’t know i’m slow
like i ain’t pour a four
let me chill and smoke this dope
remember i ain’t make the team, got somethin’ to show the coach
got somethin’ to show his ho
you ain’t schooled, not a tad bit, and you should— ayy
you ain’t schooled, not a tad bit, and you should go enroll
sh_ttyboyz, dog sh_t militia, long live $cam, dumbass
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