BabyTron - Playmaker lyrics

[Intro] b*tch, yeah (Yeah) It's BabyTron, b*tch (It's BabyTron, b*tch) Yeah (Yeah) [Verse] Pull up on your b*tch and hit her with the, "Is you ready, ho?" Ruth Chris, came a long way from SpaghettiOs Unkie went and got his Prezzi froze off a heavy load If they try to block me at the rim, turn my Jelly on Feeling like Poseidon, watch the fit drip Shooter pull up with a mullet like he Rik Smits Shooter pull up just to pull it then he switch clips They don't wanna see me touchdown, tryna squib kick It's a dirty game, call a dirty play Me and Stan Splash Bros, we got Klay and Curry range Before I hit the road, tell my girl, "Don't be worried, bae" Mr. Run-It-Up, I can show you how in thirty days Really I can show you right now if you pape ready Money getting big so you know that the hate heavy Eye down the four times scope and my aim steady Foreign kicks like Barcelona, sick I came Messi Couldn't make this up if I wanted to, this real life Wouldn't tuck this sh*t anywhere, boy, this real ice That's a one in that two liter, boy, that's still Sprite Reach for this chain? You just know you gon' get killed, right? Like, the clerk know I'm scamming, don't ya? Said he got cheese, well that's what you call "capperoni" Can't relate, I got a big stupid blue stack up on me 2015, was on a mission, True jacket on me Real spill, think about it, boy, stop it with the cap When I work magic, ain't no rabbit popping out a hat Shout-out Unkie, probably somewhere with a pot up in a trap In a Demon rocking Palm Angels, opposites attract Leave me 'lone, currently I'm hopping in a bag When I was sitting on the bench, I was plotting on the stats Feeling too safe at Somerset, shopping with the MAG Yeah, he was at the top but now the bottom where he at I ain't even gotta say no names fu*king with the crowd, young bull, just play yo games He still wearing team J's, that just ain't okay Shout-out Herbo 'nem, whites on, it's a Fazo day Blues in the bag, hands cheesy, boy, that's Cool Ranch Oh, you finally made a ten? Okay, cool, champ .223 bald fade 'em like it's boot camp Would've thought my pops ​the mailman 'cause I'm too stamped With the mafia blowing 'Woods, chilling, throwing darts Chrome on the tee but I swear I got a frozen heart Luka Trončić, guarantee this b*tch on the charts High as hell, might die coming down like I'm Owen Hart RIP, ain't no disrespect 50K on me, finna trip like I missed a step Put a @ on that comment, why that sh*t so indirect? M on my mind, was on my pants, boy, I miss the Mitt Juu walking in with big black chunky Triple S You talking 'bout scoring buckets? You ain't even dribble yet I might drop a hundred first quarter then go sit the rest b*tch, yo boyfriend a ho, that's my lil' neph' Ten in the morning, made ten, you still getting dressed Unc' do his opps like his pills, he gon' get 'em pressed All the blogs just now hit, b*tch, I been the best b*tch said I'm broke? Lil' ho off of crystal meth Who the fu*k could fu*k with me, like, really? Hutch chain, tricolor, life chilly I'm a GOAT in the field like billy Tron Iguodala, got a fu*king .9 with me What does one GC, b*tch, swipe fifty See an opp and robbed his ass like those might fit me Leave her on the interstate if she drive iffy Next year I'm telling Johnny Dang to ice kit me [Outro] b*tch, yeah, ayy (Ayy) Ayy (Ayy) Ayy, sh*ttyBoyz (Ayy, sh*ttyBoyz)