Lyrics Zap Zone – BabyTron, Certified Trapper
Cuddy in the wilderness, he set up shop in North Dakota
Forty scored on purple with the seal like
Point me towards the soda
TRX fully loaded, this b**ch all-terrain
You on rookie level, boy, we ball on hall of fame
Didn’t Juice WRLD tell you these h*es all the same
F**k around and snatch yours ‘fore I pawn a chain
Doin’ all that starin’, f**k around and catch an a*s whooping
Lil’ b**ch got that widebody, I’ma call her Catwoman
Honkin’ like a meanie in that ‘Ghini, catch me Lamb’ pushing
Before the raps, I went and built a lil’ stash jugging
Punching numbers in, I told ’em that my card tweaking
Lost lil’ brodie out of nowhere, feel my heart shrinking
If you ain’t got a plan or no goals, you better start thinking
QP of that, yeah, you would think my arms reeking
Stuck off the Wocky, I’m just chillin’ in the dark, dreaming
Catch an opp up at the mall, I bet them members spark Neiman’s
Catch him trippin’ out in traffic, leave him in a parked Demon
Certified scammer, I’m with Certified Trapper
Pop was brown skin, I doubled up and turned my Sprite blacker
Life like a book, I just turned through five chapters
Me and Dee on Rodeo like, Who ‘vert gon’ fly faster
Finna have two freaky h*es eat each other like some beta fish
Pocket full of Benjamins, my granny think I’m banging Crip
Nah, this ain’t a fifth, no
Wockhardt, sealed pint, catch me taking sips
Slid down, face covered like case dismissed
Gang in love with his switch, he got a grave to dig
Turn them hams to bacon bits if they hang with pigs
Playmaker turned coach, feel like Jason Kidd
Nah, for real, tell them boys we got a game to win
Nah, for real, tell them boys we got a game to win
Lenses hittin’ off the light, b**ch, I really live that life
If I catch a f**k n**ga, I’ma hit him right on sight
Got the switch in the club, n**ga, I don’t f**kin’ fight
Two Glocks on me, n**ga, I’ll get your a*s right
I got G’s on me, b**ch, that’s why I stand different
B**ch, all five hundred pops, yeah, we bam different
I’ll up the fire on his a*s and get to blicking
B**ch, ridin’ ’round, fat armrests with them bands in it
.223 missiles, get up on that tip, I’ll blow it like a whistle
B**ch up on my d!ck, I’m in Cali’ smokin’ truffles
Bam super hard, all the h*es gon’ wanna f**k you
Saw they was reeking
Countin’ up racks, backed up on the weekend
Get your p**sy a*s popped up, diss sneaking
B**ch grabbed my d!ck, got excited to see it
I might just put you in the kitchen, b**ch, I need a hand
BabyTron, where you at I need another double
Most these n**gas gettin’ through zaps and they can’t bubble
I just f**ked a b**ch, bend back, I don’t f**kin’ cuddle
Pull up in somethin’ super fast, this a space shuttle
N**ga should’ve stayed down with it, I got yay for you
Spin back on his block, I’ma wait for him
If you ain’t pretty, bad b**ch, I ain’t tryna f**k you
I don’t like cheap h*es, I’ll pay for it
Don’t put no ‘xotic on the scale, it’s yay on it
Cheap-ass n**ga, I got the counter with some pape’ on it…
➤ Written by BabyTron, Certified Trapper
Album: Bin Reaper 3: New Testament
BabyTron | Certified Trapper | 2023
