BabyTron – Remote Control Lyrics

Remote Control Lyrics – BabyTron

(Ayo, Mark A)
(Ayo, Mark A)

The plates West Coast Customs
Mister Earn It All, you’ll probably ask to hold something
Thousand 101s, thousand beans got the road jumping
I don’t need shit but I want more hunnids
Treat it like a king, you living like a peasant
Out here telling on yo mans? You ain’t gon’ die respected
Twenty-eighth getting bullied, boy, it’s time to buy a weapon
I done did the Scat, ‘Cat, ‘Hawk, ‘Vette, I might try a Lexus
What I paid for the juice, can only find in Texas
What I paid for the shoes, you tryna save up
Shit, I’m finna get rich, my mind made up
It’s 2022, cut it out with the same stuff
Ain’t you getting bored?
Got yo bitch tapping out off the figure four
Finna hit the billboard, mark and record
Saks workers call me “Drip Lord” when I’m in the store
Told ’em I was finna blow
Shit, I detonated
Do you see a crease? I only step the latest
Do you see the tee? I’m a rude fuck
My pop flat, I need a new Crush to pour this duece up
You said you gon’ do what?
You seen yo opps a hunnid times, ain’t shoot once
You rolled a thousand ‘Woods, ain’t never blew Runtz
Oh, you on a budget
Stop it with the monkey talk before I take a roll and up it
Shit, we know we all that, Kenan & Kel
Doing fraud, VPN, it ain’t leaving a trail
Keep it on me, fuck a grave, rather be in a cell
Robbers in yo crib while you sleep, they ain’t ringing the bell

If he don’t tighten up, he gon’ up in a LooseLeaf
We ain’t throwing hands, I’ma make him use them two teeth
Up seven figures, when you talk you think I lose sleep?
Majin Buu, I’m charging up because my juice pink
Doubled up the deuces, you could label me a four sipper
Shit crazy, my dawg turnt on me like Lord Nibbler
You can’t score by yourself like you a poor dribbler
You ain’t never spint in the McLaren, you a Ford whipper
Cream A&W, I turned it into Zoidberg
Grand Wagoneer so big it destroyed curbs
Mask on the hit like I’m out tryna avoid germs
If you don’t know Danny G, don’t use that “yoy” word
My lil’ bitch keep a weapon like she Amy Wong
One session, hunnid captions, I just made a crazy song
Up that ray gun and get him zapped, Brannigan
Yo plug pulled up from mid off rip, Hamilton

Too blowed, got the munchies like I’m Shaggy Rogers
Thinking with his dick, set him up with a addy dropper
I ain’t cheap but I ran it up in family dollars
Gift God, got that shit on me like a [?]
Slide down, tryna solve this crime? You gon’ need Fred Jones
BabyTron, when I come on crank the headphones
Only reason that you got a crib because yo rent low
(You pay like six hunnid a month)
Only reason that you got a whip ’cause you leasing
Intercept his play, to the crib like I’m [?]
Heart so cold, need a crib out in Phoenix
Road run thirty states, man, the trip is so scenic

Shit, we sent him up, that’s how it sounded when he laned
In the deep, tryna find me? End up drowning in Atlantis
Up the stick and chop a limb off, Samurai Jack
Five ball the quick way, lil’ brodie stacking five jacks
Hitman collecting souls like Demongo
Buying slab ‘Woods by the bulk, I won’t light a fronto
Putting out some cheese if it’s beef, treat it like a taco
If he don’t shut his damn mouth, make him bite a hollow, bitch

(Ayo, Mark A)

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