LYRICFLUENT
Mr. Do The Dash Lyrics by BabyTron BabyTron
Below, you will find the lyrics for Mr. Do The Dash by BabyTron.
Reach for a chain? Boy, yo ass made a hu-
Aight
What up, BlueStrip?
Reach for a chain?
Boy, yo' ass made a huge mistake
Mister Do The Dash in the coupe
No, I don't use the brakes
Why the fuck you got a vest on?
We came to shoot yo face
Star player
Came a long way from when I hooped on crates
You still workin' two to eight
I still hit the set everyday
And run through some pape'
Smellin' like a pound of 'Za
In the newest BAPE
I cannot put you on the play
All you do is flake
I cannot put you on the team
Yo' stats lookin' rough
I cannot show you how to whip
But unky cook it up
Two Glocks tucked
Buyin' ice, lil' bitch, I'm good in Hutch
Been the plug this whole time
I had to go and hook it up
First class flight straight to Heaven
Glocky took him up
Every dub I gotta take a diamond
Go and put it up
You be scared where I be
'Cause you ain't hood enough
They ain't never catch my hitman
'Cause his hood was up
Bitch, I refuse to be outperformed
In a droptop
Heard you stuck in the house with chores
She ain't throwin' neck?
Jazzy Jeff
Throw her out the door
Exotic Vernor's, pint of yeah 'round
Think I'm 'bout to pour
Think I'm 'bout to snore
Grown man stash
I can pull a hunnid out my drawer
Road runner
Up shit whether I go south or north
High as hell eatin' chili cheese
Fries without a fork
Spill my double cup and left the floor sticky
Stone Island pants on my legs
These ain't no Dickies
Bitch sent her CashApp
This lil' ho so silly
Set the play up for lil' bro
That's the coach in me
Fully switch on this bitch
Boy, this ain't no semi
Trackhawks and Hellcats around
These ain't no Hemis
Made it off the harder way
But I don't know Penny
Bankroll cotton candy
You ain't gon' see no twenties
What I'm drinkin' muddy
I ain't sippin' on no Casamigos
Fucked around and almost shot the peephole
Thinkin' that you Southwest T
But you ain't got a kilo
Throw that bitch all the way down
Call me Tron Marino
Bitch, I'm forever fresh
Yeah, I got the juice
Hand cake to the cashier
I'm just coppin' shoes
You got some nerve in that coat
Boy, that is not a Goose
Where the fuck 12 Mile Kyle?
Boy, we gotta shoot
I need a six or a four, I can't drop a deuce
Down in TX, I'm off a eight
Feelin' chopped and screwed
Dawg broke-ass cracked a joke but I am not amused
Sleeve Nash
I'll close my eyes while I lob the 'oop
Man, put that motherfuckin' gun down
'Cause we both know you not 'bout to shoot
European sneaks on my feet
Can't pronounce the shoes
Men in Black type shit
Shoot it hoppin' out the coupe
Thousand shots through his crib
Now his house a roof
Can't say exactly
but it's big shit I'm 'bout to do
Last dude I punched
Two weeks 'til they found his tooth
Why you talkin' big money shit?
You never counted blues
Fuck, damn, shit, two hunnid on the dash
Shit changed, got up off my ass
I'm runnin' to the bag
Try some bullshit?
Gang and 'nem gon' up a couple MAGs
Backwood', puff, puff, puff, bitch
Fuck a pass
Somewhere tucked on the west with a quarter ticket on me
Flyin' through the hood
Hit the Coney with the pistol on me
Shit, I can't smell what you cookin'
You a big jabroni
We gon' put you six feet deep
Up a fist up on me
Somewhere sinnin' with a pair Of Christians on me
Bitch do a trick
She done turned to a gymnast on me
No rap cap, I got some shit up on me
No rap cap, a thousand shots
You tryna get up on me
Engine purrin', skrrtin' 'round
Flowin' in the Jag' truck
Thank God I'm up
All them times I had some bad luck
Spent your life saving on these damn Buffs
Scam God
I won't stop 'til I'm in some hand cuffs
Whew
Hey
Shittyboyz, Dog Shit Militia
You know what the fuck goin' on
Hey, hey
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