Testo Headless Horseman - BabyTron
Testo della canzone Headless Horseman (BabyTron), tratta dall'album 6
If you ain't got a beat from Bam, we don't drop enough
Helluva made this beat, baby
Shit, I'm tryna land, I gotta find a helicopter pad
All these baby bottles probably thinking, where the toddlers at?
Why the fuck this bitch think she a dime with her copper ass?
DSM lieutenant, send a blitz, they hit back, roger that
Diamonds dancing, ain't no light trick, mirage or a luge
A kid without a whip or a crib, like shit was more confusing
Asked for mounting up some cocaína, Titi snort right through it
Let me know if it's really some beef
Gon' put my fork right through it
Treating the drank like a plank of wood, yeah, I'ma four by two it
Wrestling with my sleep, hacksaw Jim Duggan
Earlier than breakfast, I'll knock the jam off his muffin
It's sixteen of y'all with one pint, y'all can't all sip something
Think we even, dog, the headless horseman, he done lost his pumpkin
Telegraming with the scamy, wake up, watch the sauce get flooded
Money conversating, shut the fuck up 'less you talking hundreds
He ain't hit a shot or scored forever, must've lost the bucket
Brodie got new F&N, he clutching like the game ending
Three, two
Your mans balling up his fists up in heaven
Since you put him on that fake pendant
Heard your tape and you ain't say shit like a blank message
First place vibes, gold medal, I can't take second
Haha, yeah, just got a new crib built
The only time I ever been window shopping
Cuddy get up close with stick and
Then he whisper, "Flip your pockets"
Wear a helmet, stop, drop, and roll or we gon' hit your noggin
How the fuck you middleman the wrong and you ain't get no profit?
Chilling like a villain, lips zip, they really big on gossip
Four tweak tools in it, boy, my geek kit on toxic
Pull up, put it up with white sticks
I don't look like the grand wizard
Little Russian drakey, shot that bitch and gave my hand splinters
Brrt
Chopper with the zoom, I'm on the seven hitting opps on Grand River
Shee
Think he fucking with the gang, the pussy boy delusional
Wake up, get fly, get high, the usual
Mushu in the booth, bitch, I'm a fire spitter
Still catching the bus to go to work, boy, I'm a tire spinner
Fiend text me Virgil 'cause she snort coke
Leave your bitch on me, gon' leave her with a sore throat
Tried to battle with the goat, but look, boy, your sword broke
Stop talking to me, bitch, your crib cost my wardrobe
Credits
Writer(s): Martin Mccurtis, Marqueze Cooper, James Johnson Iv
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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