BabyTron – Jerry Rice Lyrics

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BabyTron – Jerry Rice Lyrics

The youngest GOAT
What can I say?
(Damn, Machu, why’d you have to do ’em like that?)
Bitch (Shitty Boyz)

Shootin’ thousands at the spot, come and lose your last
Dog scared of the fast life, he don’t use no gas
Tryna race, hop up in the coupe, finna lose your ass
Pretty bitch, finna slam like it’s Judo class
I’m sick you still coppin’ cookie from the bottom shelf
I’m sick I’m still on this route when it’s hot as hell
2015 was Gucci-feenin’, spent alot on belts
Ten-thousand for the bowl, if not it’s not for sale
Honey burban got me breath-catchin’ like I ran a 40
2022, new thing, had to grab the Forgis
Jerry Rice that motherfucker if you pass it towards me
Livin’ in the past, no pape but he had a story
Long sleeve, ice-skatin’, now I swerve in it
Drivin’ off the [?], might fuck around and hit the curb in it
My mind movin’ at a million miles per minute
I’ll lay low, my shooters slidin’ off the percs itchin’
You ain’t got no hustle in you, what you know about grindin’?
Hit the top from the bottom, what you know about climbin’?
220 on the dash, what you know about flyin’?
I was stayin’ up, drawin’ plays up and route findin’ (Swear to god)
I could probably coach you
Show you how to make a dub off giffys or on Pro Tools
30 day grind, another 50 I’ma blow through
You in the booth, talkin’ ’bout some shit that you don’t do (Boy you)
Talkin’ ’bout some shit that you won’t do
Brodie beat the case, dancin’ on ’em, ain’t got no proof
Two sticks, Cosmo and Wanda, make him go “poof”
Backdoored your mans? Can’t believe you, that’s a bold move
Wouldn’t kick it wit’ you if I taught Karate lessons
You better leave, Tristan Thompson, this the Wocky section
Flash wit’ the-, boy, you gotta come see akhi weapons
He gon’ try to ride the wave till the tsunami wet him
Flyin’ in the AMG and I got the K wit’ me (Skrr)
Used to have that one whip, I only got from A to B
Think I counted to a thousand ‘fore I knew my ABCs
RTA jeans, boy, you only got Macy’s cheese
Got a play on west, warrant gettin’ off on X today
Trunk full of- (Shh), ridin’ ’round wit’ the Texas plates
Every punch ’round here heavy, boy, you feather-weight
Dub in the morning, ten later, had a stellar day
Today was good as hell, I feel like Ice Cube
Seven on the left, ‘nother seven on the right shoe
Prices gettin’ crazy, wish that I could swipe juice
Why you hatin? You’ll get your time to shine too
Unless you lazy, that won’t really work (At all)
Can’t believe I spent eight on a silly shirt (What the hell)
Can’t believe this bitch plain as hell (Shit)
Talkin’ ’bout ZaZa, you finna go and face a tale (What the fuck)
Light Backwoods, they’d spend their last just to look crispy
In Wally’s World, self-scannin’, jabs and hooks wit’ me
Walk in, I bet I’m V.I.P., that’s the pull in me (Yeah)
Stayin’ ‘way from the sheep, that’s the wolve in me
Sin all day, then I go and hit the booth to preach
Dump my backpack on the counter, coppin’ Cuban links
Brodie pulled up wit’ a long clip like a movie scene
Y’all can have the fame, I want pape, that shit cool to me
Thuh, y’all don’t really want no real money
Five years out of high school and y’all still flunkies
I can’t have him ’round if I think that he’ll steal from me
If the rap or the scams don’t work I’m servin’ pill junkies

Huh, yeah
Youngest GOAT alive, youngest GOAT breathin’
Youngest GOAT walkin’
(Damn, Machu, why’d you have to do ’em like that?)
They can’t fuck wit’ me

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