Retro Tron

Lyrics

[Intro] (You gotta fuck it up, Getta Beats) (Not everybody can record me) (Bitch, you definitely can't record me) Hey, hey [Verse] Ain't it my choice? Ain't it my life? I'm out in Five Points, getting high-high Like a hippie, five joints, cup tie-dye You the type to score nine points, sit the sideline We gon' sip till the pint empty, hey We gon' smoke till the bowl gone, hey Bad ho, only like Benjis, hey Bitch diggin' for some rose gold, ayy Turn a cup of ice to a snow cone, hey Turn a cup of Sprite to a snow globe, hey They don't follow by the bro code You ain't gotta type, all you follow's broke hoes Oh, that's your ho? That's my lil' go-go You a rat, so your son, he a lil' po-po Dub on the screwbacks, lil' JoJo You would think I'm from the crab, do a lil' showboat when I walk out Shootin' pills out, it used to be Joe Dumars They used to be shy, nowadays hoes two-guards Eyes low, you would think I know Kumar You would think it's Star Wars, I cloned two cards Punch god, I'll clear two carts Exotic in the leaf, boy, I'm blowing rhubarb This bitch morph chrome, boy, I need a new heart Control, alt, deletin' hoes, I don't need a toolbar I heard they said they want the Retro Tron back I feel 'em though, shit, I want the retro Wock' back Huh, hey, I wanna pour up in a LiveWire, where the retro pops at? Bitch a rabbit, I ain't even have to set a cheese trap He ain't even got a mattress, just a set of bean bags You would think this bitch had a extra set of knee caps If she come out in that bonnet, I'ma lay my seat back All I think's racks Lil' brodie out his shit, all he think's straps It's so dark, all he think's black Try to teach fuzz how to rap, but all he think's trap I guess all he think's rap Ever since I watched The Wire, all I think's tapped Shit, when we talkin', I don't wanna see jacks Rich fuck, thinkin' caps be Supreme hats I don't got a heart, I think I bleed black I don't give a fuck, I gotta speak facts Alfredo guts all inside the cream 'Lac When it's wartime, you gotta know that you can't re-rack Bitch, how is you an esti? You ain't got no clients I can tell you never made no money, shit, you gotta try it If I'm lyin', then I swear to God I'm flyin' They like "Tron, lock in", but I swear to God I'm tryin' Every day, every night, you know? Better fight back, you gon' lose every fight you don't Ain't you finna grind for the life you want? Gotta know I shine before the ice I own Zip your lips with the zips, boy, we like 'bout bows Y'all just stay at home crib, livin' life like hoes A movie might be too short, shit, my life like shows High as hell, turnin' left on the opps block, tryna right my wrongs Where the Morty at? Your bitch on my Pickle Rick, get your shorty jacked With her lil' horny ass Bust all that junk food, pop .40 black Blood'll slide with machete in this gory bag You the type to get re-rocked, you dimwit You know BabyTron cut like my wrist slit I pull up rockin' Rick on some slick shit You a pig, so your daughter she a piglet When they hear this, they gon' say I did my big one All the hoes was fine, shit, I didn't wanna pick one (Man) How the fuck you ain't get one? Oh, they wanna play? I'll pull a trick one Talkin' 'bout a skit? I'll pull a quick one Brr-ow, I'll pull a flip one My Zaga Zod fuel low, let me twist one I guess he had Jesus with him, how he miss 'em? Every thought, ah-ha Everything I talk about, it be currently Had a dream that they chalked out and murdered me Then I woke up laughin', they wouldn't hurt a bee Zips, three-fifty, drop-offs at the service fee Catch 'em out and I'ma do that shit in the worst degree I don't know about you (I don't know) I don't know about you, but every day be the first to me [Outro] ShittyBoyz Dog$hit Militia Long live $cam, R.I.P. Chris You know the script, T-Double-H-L shit You know the script, huh, hey, huh SBDSM, Troncic SBDSM, Troncic SBDSM, Troncic, 77