Tag Team Champs Songtext
von BabyTron
Tag Team Champs Songtext
(Ooh shit, that′s a Danny G beat)
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, okay (It's BlueStrip, baby)
Bitch, yeah
Gramz walked in, White Gushers, fifty for a eighth
Big drum hanging out the chop, it′s sixty in the K
Old Tron was road running, putting giffies in a safe
All blues in my skinnies, it's a Nipsey type of day
Unorthodox, I just shoot the K any type of way
CPL shooters, go ahead and give yo life away
Put her bottom on a Triple S's, I′m on ice today
Catch a body in a whip and then go and change the license plate
Catch a body in a Demon then we to the chop shop
Busting in this bitch mouth like soda and some Pop Rocks
So much smoke in the droptop, it′s a hot box
Bought my shooter seven weapons, all he know is drop opps
Hit dawg tee up close, turnt it to a crop top
One day I seen my uncle cook a brick in a crock-pot
You dropped a tape and I ain't hear, my nigga, you is not hot
Beat my granny boyfriend ass like, "Bro, you is not pops"
.223s′ll put him in a suit, yeah, we'll bowtie him
Pop a rapper, doggy probably up in Heaven ghost-writing
Not a scrapper, K′s around like KrispyLife, ain't no fighting
Finna cop the newest season Challey, it got no mileage
Yeah, yeah, yo baby mama can′t relate
Tryna push the pedal pouring Wocky, had to slam the brakes
Never understood the dick sucking, ain't a man I hate
All team players, Dee just went and passed Stan the Drac'
I′m off a pill, about to break her back, "Bae, grab the brace"
They thought I hit him with a body shot till he grabbed his face
Fuck a locked box, my nigga, where the fucking safe?
I ain′t tryna be Pooh Shiesty, bro, I'm tryna duck the Jakes
In other words, I′m free
Yo bitch living with you? Now I gotta drop a bag on Bri
I'm in Neiman′s with a bag on me
Fuck yo baby mama, use our car, bring it back on E
Palm Angels joggy, granny told me that I'm fighting demons
Being one up? That won′t last forever, pussy, I get even
Unky been show me chemistry, I was in Science sleeping
Scam star, might take a 101 and go and slide in Neiman's
Candy apple Faygo, four of Wocky, I might sleep for weeks
Told my Cali plug I'ma kill him if I see a seed
Unreleased Amiris from Revive, you ain′t seen these jeans
Call akhi, he gon′ call habibi, they bring TNT
Do something to one of mine and we'll kill for weeks
It′s a big lighter, this a big lighter, yeah, I'm toting the heat
Oh, you love that block? Well I′m 'bout to make you hug the street
You a blunt roller, you can′t do shit for me but hold the lease
Fighting and arguing with my bitch got me missing out on the pape'
Threw a body shot, she ducked, I hit her in the face
Got the pints of lean coming in, I got 'em in a crate
Iced out my neck, Hutch threw the water, I′m sitting in a lake
It′s a wavy night, smoking MIA Runtz
You a worker, every check you make got a pay cut
Bitch said the dick too good, I'm Mr. Make ′Em Break Up
With some 'rillas rocking Baby Milo, you can′t tame us
My bitch paid the doc for a body
Yours didn't so guess what? Now her friend fucked
Pour a four of Tris in his pop, now my pain crushed
You made yo girl pay for yo food? You a lame fuck
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, okay (It's BlueStrip, baby)
Bitch, yeah
Gramz walked in, White Gushers, fifty for a eighth
Big drum hanging out the chop, it′s sixty in the K
Old Tron was road running, putting giffies in a safe
All blues in my skinnies, it's a Nipsey type of day
Unorthodox, I just shoot the K any type of way
CPL shooters, go ahead and give yo life away
Put her bottom on a Triple S's, I′m on ice today
Catch a body in a whip and then go and change the license plate
Catch a body in a Demon then we to the chop shop
Busting in this bitch mouth like soda and some Pop Rocks
So much smoke in the droptop, it′s a hot box
Bought my shooter seven weapons, all he know is drop opps
Hit dawg tee up close, turnt it to a crop top
One day I seen my uncle cook a brick in a crock-pot
You dropped a tape and I ain't hear, my nigga, you is not hot
Beat my granny boyfriend ass like, "Bro, you is not pops"
.223s′ll put him in a suit, yeah, we'll bowtie him
Pop a rapper, doggy probably up in Heaven ghost-writing
Not a scrapper, K′s around like KrispyLife, ain't no fighting
Finna cop the newest season Challey, it got no mileage
Yeah, yeah, yo baby mama can′t relate
Tryna push the pedal pouring Wocky, had to slam the brakes
Never understood the dick sucking, ain't a man I hate
All team players, Dee just went and passed Stan the Drac'
I′m off a pill, about to break her back, "Bae, grab the brace"
They thought I hit him with a body shot till he grabbed his face
Fuck a locked box, my nigga, where the fucking safe?
I ain′t tryna be Pooh Shiesty, bro, I'm tryna duck the Jakes
In other words, I′m free
Yo bitch living with you? Now I gotta drop a bag on Bri
I'm in Neiman′s with a bag on me
Fuck yo baby mama, use our car, bring it back on E
Palm Angels joggy, granny told me that I'm fighting demons
Being one up? That won′t last forever, pussy, I get even
Unky been show me chemistry, I was in Science sleeping
Scam star, might take a 101 and go and slide in Neiman's
Candy apple Faygo, four of Wocky, I might sleep for weeks
Told my Cali plug I'ma kill him if I see a seed
Unreleased Amiris from Revive, you ain′t seen these jeans
Call akhi, he gon′ call habibi, they bring TNT
Do something to one of mine and we'll kill for weeks
It′s a big lighter, this a big lighter, yeah, I'm toting the heat
Oh, you love that block? Well I′m 'bout to make you hug the street
You a blunt roller, you can′t do shit for me but hold the lease
Fighting and arguing with my bitch got me missing out on the pape'
Threw a body shot, she ducked, I hit her in the face
Got the pints of lean coming in, I got 'em in a crate
Iced out my neck, Hutch threw the water, I′m sitting in a lake
It′s a wavy night, smoking MIA Runtz
You a worker, every check you make got a pay cut
Bitch said the dick too good, I'm Mr. Make ′Em Break Up
With some 'rillas rocking Baby Milo, you can′t tame us
My bitch paid the doc for a body
Yours didn't so guess what? Now her friend fucked
Pour a four of Tris in his pop, now my pain crushed
You made yo girl pay for yo food? You a lame fuck
Writer(s): James Johnson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
