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babytron - frankenstein lyrics

[intro]
wockhardt, hey
wockhardt got me walking, f+ck
wockhardt got me, yeah, h+lly, okay (whew, huh)
h+lluva made this beat, baby

[verse]
wockhardt got me walking round like i’m frankenstein
heard it’s thirty phones, ot, finna take a drive
on my way right now, i ain’t got a patient side
triple h your lil’ b+tch, i’ma break her spine
triple s when i step, b+tch, i’m ten toes
on 7 mile, 3rd & goal, that’s the red zone
scam star, i can’t make pape with a dead phone
you put the cuffs on that b+tch, boy, you dead wrong
7.62s chop his mop, now his dreads gone
i’ma get the throat, you gon’ еnd up in the friend zone
tryna keep up? boy, i hopе yo legs strong
one man army, had the bike with no pegs, bro
fendi tee with the face, this ain’t kenzo
you gon’ let ’em get through yo skin? you ain’t head strong
get the head from that b+tch then i head home
ac in the foreign whip, i won’t sweat long
unky on the block selling girl, it ain’t prostitution
gave my granny ten bands, she said hallelujah
f+ck love, man f+cked around and shot at cupid
come down and wet his block, swear it ain’t no mop i’m using
bro and ’em dropping opps, i’m just dropping music
guarantee he blast off when this rocket booming
let me catch him down at tx, i’ma chop and screw ’em
if the steak ain’t enough, bet the lobster do it
amiri thigh pads, i got chunky pockets
banana clip on the k, thought a monkey shot ’em
which sbs should i rock? i got twenty options
backpack boyz, turtle pie, every puff be toxic
walking through the rain storm, stone island windbreaker
hating on the ‘gram? i don’t know you, you a big hater
self+scan, slam dunk, 201 rim breaker
only way you gon’ beat the team is with six players
hit yo b+tch and disappear like i’m criss angel
off+white belt, when i sit down, this b+tch tangle
whole team eating, told the chef we need a big table
i know you sick your b+tch hit the loft, finna get facial
gold chain on, slamming hoes like i’m kurt angle
looking at a b+tch i just met, “you on dirt, ain’t you?”
looking up at doggy in the booth, “you finna perp, ain’t you?”
looking dead in the mirror, “boy, you turnt, ain’t you?”
star player, i just dropped a four in my gatorade
.223s hit his ‘fro, it became a fade
road runner, punch god, b+tch, i be state to state
when i talk, they all listen to me like i’m major payne
no sense, spent four on the belt and pants
unky on the block catching bricks like he elton brand
and he’ll take you to the kitchen where he selling tan
bro make his own pape, you think that i held his hand?
up twenty+one on the opps, they getting blew out
hopped out the coupe, had that lil’ b+tch like, “ooh, wow”
i might take a trip to hawaii, throw a luau
punch god, when i walk in, you bow
sh+tty charm on my neck, that b+tch blew out
i send everybody home like it’s two outs
so many blues in my roll, i might lose count
big rick owens, scuff ’em once? they get threw out
scam man, b+tch, i’m paying five for a [?]
penny pincher like you mr. krabs, you a krabby patty
got back home and i ain’t even have a navi
where i’m from, you grab a ‘cat when you catch a scatty
b+tch want some money, better ask yo daddy
it’s 2021, why the f+ck are yo pants so baggy?
b+tch walking in, told the other one to grab her panties
big pape, type of money that’ll make you smack your granny
ten toes, stepping in these big bottom pradas
hunnid in the clip, f+ck around and drop a dollar
doggy talking ’bout a hunnid? he ain’t got a comma
h+lla ammo in the clip like i found a llama
black tinted h+llcat, this is not wakanda
burberry plaid b+tton up, had to pop the collar
ninety+five out, still sliding in a balaclava
i’m a warrior with this .9 but i’m not a dala
[outro]
i mean, iguodala, f+ck, sh+ttyboyz

- babytron lyrics

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