BabyTron - Sith Lord lyrics

[Intro] Mhh mh mhhhhhhh Mh Mh Mh Mhhh Aye, Aye, Aye (Oh sh*t that's a DannyG beat) [Verse 1] Do the dash in a scat, fly it like its XWing b*tch I'm Mr. Pull up to the bank and make the check ping Back to back champ, yo team losing like the 10th seed I'll cut the traction off and make the vette' squeak Ksubi jean rocker, ridin' round with some bean poppers Everybody five plus, we don't do the team hoppers Scam vet, 2016 I woulda' green dot her 7.62 demolish sh*t, this a tree chopper Punchin' like a boxer, Ion box but we can box you up 3.5 of jelly bean pie, takin toxic puffs How is you the source, placed an order, you ain't got enough Dog sh*t militia, crackin' cards got my pockets stuffed Made some sh*t of that one sh*t, shout out Donald Trump Samsung freezer, ten minutes, turn that wock to slush It's gon' be a long night if I pop the trunk Grab a coat, It's a cold night when I rock the buffs [Bridge] You didn't know, It's time to get to it Bro hittin' whippits, clutchin' glockie in this b*tch zooted Real shooter, only swish too Tool got a ladder, hit his crib tryna improve it [Verse 2] Chop talkin, wock dropper, swervin' in the newest demon I just hit the mall again cause I was Gucci feenin' If we ever had a conversation, I was ruby speakin' Better have that same energy when that toolie swingin' Head noddin, cause this song a hit Crack head spillin' red on him, I be doggin' kicks Upgraded 10 on it, finna' frost the kicks .223's knock the dreads off him if he talkin sh*t Vanilla giffies in the trunk, In the rental road runnin' Beamed up, Darth Maul, bro double pole clutchin' You blowin up her phone, I got her in here toe touchin' This drum mag real as me, it's a whole hunnid' Head to toe, check her down, like a Louie mannequin Skywalkin' off the Runtz, I feel like Luke and Anakin Drip god, damn near a pool I'm standin' in In the newest pair of Crocs, blow, scoopin packages If it's up, we gon' handle it Uncle scam, best believe that I'm taxin' him This sh*t gettin easy, Ion need the practicin' You gon' end up head on the curb if you flash a blick In my Air Forces like a Jedi I pull up from wherever, b*tch I got some dead eye Wide body, hoggin' two lanes this a red eye He said I won't hit his b*tch, but bet I Lemme stop, cookin up, Betty Crock Dime bag copper, that's you boy, ion petty shop Lookin' like I got expelled in these Fendi flops Thigh pad in these miri' jeans, lost a heavy knot Catch him at the light, we gon' leave him with a totaled whip Ion stress no more, cuz I know I'm it The sauce ain't for sale, that sh*t over with Heard yo unckie, cryin' in the trap, tryna hold a brick [Outro] Old ass, poor ass, b*tch, aye sh*ttyboyz