Karate Buddy

Energy made this one (alright)
What up, Tron?
KrispyLife

You fuck with rats? You might as well be Stuart Little
Tron 'bout to do some bullshit and I'ma do it with him
You taxing and I'm cheap, just meet me in the middle
Picking up a hunnid racks, just me and Tizzle

Dripping in my Mike Amiris, you might see my jeans drizzling
Cuz up the drum, fuck around and leave yo team crippled
Star player, get the shot off less than three dribbles
Surf and turf, need the biggest portion, I don't eat little

Between me and bro, this like a thousand some carats
If Britney don't let me fuck then I'ma hump Sharon
Shoot a nigga wedding day up like, boy, fuck marriage
I'm all for the beef around this bitch like fuck lettuce

Try and square up? I'ma up weapon
5,000 for the feature, triple for a punch lesson
Widebody with the V12, I can't come second
201 credit sold out, I had to come debit

I got bricks in the fender too
Dawg cross me the wrong way? He in a blender too
My son only four and his room got a kitchen too
The booth in my basement big as hell, it got a kitchen too

Russian rifle spitting crazy like it got a missing tooth
Same scam ten times, this old man a nincompoop
Whip fast as hell, watch this bitch go "poof!"
He gon' need God when I stomp him in these Christian Loubs

The next nigga gon' need the pope
Bitch, don't just wipe my dick off, you better use some soap
I think this nigga tryna steal from me, gotta move the loaf
I keep shooting the opps' cars up, they gon' need a boat

But that will not make me stop shooting
Gun big as hell, make the Titanic stop moving
I really love the dubs like I'm not losing
Make the freak bitch bless me like I achoo'd it
Every song, every hook, every beat, I chewed it
Widebody 2021, I am not moving (okay)

Chess player, not to mention that I'm in here Louis stepping
Lights, camera, action, hit his block and we'll movie set it
White boys, they ain't lighting woods, this a doobie section
ShittyBoyz, lab takeover, it's a dookie session

Jag run, running out the crib, throwing on my Crocs
Three-five of shh, it don't matter, blowing on my opps
Late night at yo crib, yo bitch blowing off my socks
50 sticks beamed up, leave him with some polka dots

Nocturnal, 4 a.m., on the opps' block
Turn a cream into a black cherry, this a Wock' pop
Thinking that he big? Turned his truck into a drop-top
Shot him coming out the door, he heard a knock-knock



Credits
Writer(s): Marlon Brown, Krispylife Kidd, James Johnson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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