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babytron - clark fent lyrics

[intro]
(enrgy made this one)
(nyah)
b+tch

[verse]
i’m the obvious favorite, i hope you put me on your best slip (i came a long way from underdog)
finally hit his ho, i went and scratched that p+ssy off the checklist
(he gon’ be sick when he figure out i did that)
brodie on a blitz, like, all he need’s a fully and a tech fit
man, with sixteen zero six and how the f+ck i end up rookie and a vet’, b+tch?
unky pickin’ up some pounds, you would’ve thought
got her heart on lock, i call that cardiac arrest
had to go and hit revive, it ain’t no marni at the ‘set
how the f+ck i’m good at math when i can hardly pass a test?
musty hoes shakin’ ass, i know that party had a stench
you ain’t in my league ’til you accumulate a billion streams
when i’m sleep, i’m thinkin’ ’bout them billions, it was million dreams
shooter out in public with some sh+t, make a civilian scream
all the ‘woods i blew, they probably had to cut a trillion leaves
must ain’t get the memo, doggie still be twistin’ ‘rillos
cuz addicted to the drank, don’t give a f+ck, ‘ll sip some yellow

got a bunny on the run, we sendin’ oxies out with emma
they done shadowbanned my ‘gram, like, someone lock me in with meta
f+ck around and charge a ho, she tryna top me in the tesla

f+ckers tried to fl!ck me on the 6, i hit a right on runyon
tell a ho, “you know i’m heartless, i don’t even cry from onions”
bag him up just like some chips, the drakey leave him like a funyun
doggy bone a p+ssy, that ain’t zotti, it’s some catnip
skatin’ ’round they block, if i catch three, then that’s a hattrick
sh+t, i came from swipe, swipe, my pockets, they on fat nick
12 just fl!cked me with a brick, like, “why you think a black lit?”
only time that dude be shinin’ when he in his man’s kit
headin’ back from minnesota, thumbin’ on the blatnik
you would think the junkie buyin’ sweaters, coppin’ half zips
your b+tch rubbed my d+ck across her lips just like some chapstick
bullets with the red tips look like some carmex
cl!ck the b+tton, lift him up, we did him like an armrest
hype boy, sh+t, the drip, this ain’t from farfetch
fiend think he superman off oowops, he clark fent
you earn your stripes from being solid, this ain’t eight+ball
knock her out the park, then i head home, but this ain’t baseball
stingy with that ‘wood, i pull up, fah+fah+fah+fah, and face y’all
(phew)
lyin’ to the hoes, but i can never when i make songs
short temper, it don’t correlate with how my pape’ long
neighbors know my name, ’cause, b+tch, i’m famous, i ain’t trey songz
shootin’ out some tracers, i ain’t got the time to chase y’all
[outro]
sh+ttyboyz, dog sh+t militia, long live $cams, you know?
live from the lab
ain’t sh+t change
same sh+t, different day, you know?
hey, hey
trip, enrgy
shh, nyah

- babytron lyrics

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