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blp kosher - outer space pickleball كلمات أغنية

[intro: blp kosher & babytron]
long live jew shiesty, long live charmane
they gon’ have to call 911 after this pickleball game
sh_ttyboyz, dog$hit militia
long live $cam, r.i.p. chris

[verse 1: blp kosher]
blood on the money but the pay crip, k put a hole in your shoes, call it k_swiss
peel a top back, on some jfk sh_t, dead on arrival, we don’t do no etas, jit
catch a body way before gta 6, glock in my belt, we ain’t on no bta sh_t
in a bad headsp_ce, gettin’ head in a sp_ceship, ayy, dreidelman, watch me shapeshift

[chorus: blp kosher & babytron]
d_mn, i’m gettin’ rich for sure, the whip game mean in this b_tch, but i’ma shift the boat
i say, “the goat l!ck my p_n_s,” how she givin’ throat
me and tron playin’ picklеball when we in the yo
chain do thе cat daddy while my wrist hit the folks
zero rules in the field we in, we blitz the coach
had to keep your tt off the trap, she gon’ sniff the load
cudi flippin’ bows, sippin’ o’s, and he hittin’ dough
i don’t bump yay ’cause the fent, they put it in the coke
hit the one_way, jumped the fence, and put it in the ‘yot
ricky rubio, me and blp pick and roll, how the f_ck my florida plug playin’ in the snow?
get up close like a p_rn shot, now his ass gonzo
hit the opp, blood out my nose like i’m kid pr_nto
perkys callin’, bright future, i don’t know pluto
i went from canned sardines, now i’m eatin’ crudos
[verse 2: babytron]
ayy, why you tryna be like us? just be you, bro
when i’m wrestlin’ with my g’s, you should think sumo
good ping, shot off one [?] 4_3_2_0
how we fit thirty weapons in the three two_doors?
when you a champion, it’s only right you rock gold
bullets with the blue tips, you better stop, drop, roll
started off sierra mist, but you would think the coke
ot in the bnb, can’t go out like i’m pop smoke
you can call me tron gotti turn ’em into john doe
no mask, cudi would do fenty in that pot, throwed
h_ll nah, that ain’t no pot roast
if i throw that hoodie on, you f_cked like you dropped soap
the bell just rang, you better drop notes
lil’ brodie hit the self scan like luke rockhold
lookin’ like a tin man, even the socks chrome
literally a heart pumpin’, time i ain’t got, ho

[verse 3: blp kosher]
opp hoes? uh_uh, we ’bout to rock shows
booted up, i’m off a ten screet but i don’t pop those
now i’m at the birds street with a flock of hoes
antelope drac’ with the drum, we play the bongo (walddt)
i used to find opps before they dropped ‘locs
swung my racket into outer sp_ce, no venus williams
he got hit up in his leg tryna pop hoes
chopper ate ’em up, not a d_mn chance, neen williams
ayy tron, we’ll finish him
[verse 4: babytron & blp kosher]
across the us—broward county up to michigan
i ain’t have a listener, now they just listenin’
i ain’t have a single vvs [?], but now they glistenin’
them boys figulating, i don’t speak fig latin
he a honeybaked ham, i caught ’em with the pigs chattin’
the day i met tron, i knew i’d never quit rappin’
in my prime, in my mode, b_tch, i’m in my zone

- blp kosher

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