midwxst feat. BabyTron – 223’s

Lyrics 223’s – midwxst feat. BabyTron

Enrgy made this one
Do you hear that
That’s..
That’s what real n**gas sound like

Yeah, I got him mad, look at his face, he look like Darth Maul
Ringing up my brothers, I’m the one that made them shots call
Gettin’ paper, it stay in my hands, I feel like St. Paul
Said he wouldn’t tell and then he did, and that’s his damn fault
My money on Eiffel Tower, b**ch, you know it stand tall
Been off of my phone, get in that bag, b**ch, I don’t need calls
If I ain’t make like 5K in a day, b**ch, I get withdrawals
N**gas tried to hold me down, well, now they got me pissed off

Know some brothers that do drills, and they don’t do construction
I know some brothers with them sticks, and they don’t play percussion
My brodie, shh, he keep that ‘K and it might get to bustin’
You f**k with gang, I hope you know you suffer repercussions
My pens and words are f**king weapons of damn mass destruction
Run in that show and made it jump, them b**ches double-dutchin’
My brodie really keep that ‘K, and he not even Russian
I’m in his city tryna slide, but I know that he ducking

Man, got me pissed off
One hand up on the trigger, ready right to let that b**ch off
Word to my boy Chris, that chopper made him dance like TikTok
Casio up on my wrist, might go bust down the G-Shock
Brodie keep that .19 on, he ride ’round with that G-lock
What they say, They spot ’em, then they got ’em, made him beatbox
Latina girls in my DM’s, got me a mamacita
If you had the life I’m livin’, this s**t loco, Mamma Mia, ooh

Talk about my brothers and my family, we shoot from the paint
Hooded up, black fit on my body like Kevin Durant
I ain’t perfect, I done did some s**t, b**ch, I am not a Saint
Lost some brothers on the f**kin’ way and that s**t brought me pain
Bail out any of my brothers or the f**king gang
Steppin’ on me, I know no n**gas gon’ tuck the chain
The hardest that’s comin out of Indi’, you gon’ know the name
Told brodie, Kick the cup, but he can’t stop sippin’ up on the drank

Hands on, I’m the type to pick the soccer ball up
Hop out and walk ’em down, we finna pop ’em all up
Sick, he think he shiny, he done went and copped some Palm Buffs
Face card scorchin’, I don’t really shop at malls much

Ha-ha, look, hot as f**k like I’m stuck in the microwave
Finna maximize the hit with this micro ‘K
Tryna hit the top, you gon’ have to fight your way
Tie him up and leave his body, s**t, the psycho way
Tryna check this profile credit, what Geico say
You ain’t tough, snatch your wood, then light your way
Lil’ pups aim for your ankles, we gon’ bite your face
Yeah, with these 223’s
Grab the V’s back to back, you know these ain’t no Jubilees
Tryna race with Mr. Vroomie-Zoom, I guess that you will see
That you can’t catch up
You sippin’ Jabba the Hutt, I got a red cup, no cap

Yeah, I got him mad, look at his face, he look like Darth Maul
Ringing up my brothers, I’m the one that made them shots call
Gettin’ paper, it stay in my hands, I feel like St. Paul
Said he wouldn’t tell and then he did, and that’s his damn fault…

Written by BabyTron, midwxst, Enrgy Beats, CookUpMason & aldn
Album: Back In Action 3.0
Produced by Enrgy Beats, CookUpMason & aldn
midwxst | BabyTron | 2022

Mai multe de la