Testo Dog Shit Militia - BabyTron feat. StanWill
Testo della canzone Dog Shit Militia (BabyTron feat. StanWill), tratta dall'album Lewis & Clark
Huh, ayy, what up, Getta? (Getta Beats)
Like, damn, I can't get a beat, man?
Ayy
Huh, ayy, look me in my, yeah, huh, ayy
Look me in my, yeah, huh, ayy
Huh, ayy, yeah
Look me in my eyes, huh, yeah
Look me in my eyes, oh, you can't, buffs limousine
Scam season, I done came Tech, fuck a skinny jean
I wish he would reach for my chain, feel like Timmy T
Like, I wish he would, bitch, I'm Timmy Turner
If I'm anywhere without my gang then I'm with a burner
Yo bitch give me small fry vibes 'cause she with a burger
And tell my old bitch, "Like some pics when you finish lurking"
Yeah, check the Apple Watch, ain't no time for hoes
Like we OT with the strip, got all kind of poles
Gang caught his ass off-guard, ain't have time to pose
Bro rolling three hoes with him like he tryna bowl
Been getting, yeah, okay, yeah
Been getting jacks, you can call me "Tronny Appleseed"
Tryna run off? I'ma point the shotty at your feet
I'm a real rapper, you ain't ate hibachi at the beach
Three-five a hunnid dollars, y'all gon' probably match a G
Magpul grip, big scope, and attached a beam
I eat ramen all week just to stack some cheese
Mad as fuck this bitch ain't let me fuck like I ain't actually me
Like I ain't actually him
Why would you start a war with us like you'd actually win?
Fucked her off some bundles and I got them off of smacking BINs
Slam dunk, I'ma bend her over and attack her rim
Huh, ayy, Amiri, huh, yeah, huh
Ayy, Amiri snake print, Christian Loubs, I'm a flashy fuck
Playing with her heart and in her throat, I ain't actually cuff
Chop loud as hell, might fuck around and attach a muffle
Big pape', bop sticks, we the Dog $hit Militia
If we catch him out, fuck around and all pistol whip him
Reaching for the test tube? Huh, dawg tripping tripping
Bro got 45, when you catch dawg, send a missile
Huh, I'm probably in ATL Trackhawking
Wouldn't try nobody in my gang, they like to stack coffins
Apple brick 256, bitch, I'm jack talking
Catch a burger, I might fuck around and Big Mac sauce him
Wake up, catch him everyday, I'm a jackholic
Unc' got two phones, the one with minutes he gon' slap off it
I was bank frauding but I need to chill, I'm back off it
Fake ID from Colorado, bitch, I'm Pat Dawkins
Hunnid round drum and my hitman ain't scared to blow him
Put ninety-nine on his top like an Arizona
Roll won't fit in the 'Miris, this bitch barely folding
Two chains straight from Hutchy Hutch, ain't go to Gary phone
Yeah, I ain't gonna lie, Getta did his thing
30K play if you catch me stepping in the bank
All that fighting dead, you gon' have to wrestle with the K
Hard body, at this point I don't think I bend or break
Credits
Writer(s): James Johnson, Bernabe Rivas
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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