babytron - jambalaya lyrics
[intro]
(i got so much energy)
nyah, nyah
ayy, ayy
[verse]
sh+t, i’m in the trenches, but my watch a royal oak
tell a b+tch to get some milk, ’cause i don’t spoil hoes
grab an oscar by the way she playin’ loyal roles
(this lil’ b+tch think she sl!cked, don’t she? i hate these hoes)
have my hitter land on top his roof just like he ezio
every mill’ exquisite, came a long way from spaghetti+os
fully bully, i’d never shoot a bl!ck in semi mode
every time i’m lookin’ for some beef, you think the deli closed
i might cpn the yop, they think i’m kenny rosе
it’s zombies here, zombiеs there, we in the fetti zone
pockets out of shape, if you look close, might see some belly rolls
murder on my mind, i’m lookin’ for the opps in melly mode
pop out in that mink, i’m lookin’ like an eskimo
all this work, done caught a tan, you think it went to mexico
all this ninety three up in the spot, you think it’s texaco
b+tch gon’ have to hit my apple pay for me to text the ho
i can’t get her off my genitals, i ball like t+st+c+les
i got time to bend they block, my schedule’s lookin’ flexible
zag’ and za’, we blow it by the bowl, you smokin’ reginald’s
and that sh+t is not acceptable
ar got two mini lasers, these f+ckers might be tentacles
heard y’all down to miniscule, our inventory’s plentiful
ho addicted to eatin’ the d+ck just like a edible
money bank, can catch rob some numbers like a decimal
i ain’t feelin’ bad you on yo’ last, that sh+t preventable
everyday, we rollin’ loud, knowin’ i just did the festival
catch ’em out, embarrassed ’em, the glocky made a spectacle
gotta iron out these dirty doves, they ain’t presentable
everybody in the a callin’ me twin
everybody in the a callin’ me twin, we ain’t identical
ninety+dollar affies out the trap, this ain’t no medical
throwin’ bullets faster than a pitcher wearin’ pine tar
uber gotta let me spark my weed to get a five star
yeah, i heard this project start to finish, ain’t a line hard
trizz, wock’, quag’, stilly, you be at the wine bar
cuddy mixin’— over the pot, that ain’t no jambalaya
heard you love this b+tch to death, she ot with a stuffed v+g+n+
printin’ out a fake id, i need a name, might come elijah
tell a sl+t to hit her knees and pray ’cause i’m the jugg messiah
[outro]
sh+ttyboyz, dog sh+t militia
long live $cam, you know?
huh, ayy, ayy
ayy, ayy
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