Correction Lyrics Brotha Man by BabyTron

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Lyrics

It's me in this b*t*h, yeah (Helluva made this beat, baby)
Sh*ttyBoyz

Turn the strip into a?pool?party
Call Hutch, Hutch?f**k around blew on my new?Cartis
School? Man, f**k it, I was too tardy
I'ma shoot that b*t*h, had to tell coach to two guard me
She ain't gon' answer, my d**k in her throat
B*t*h, I'm big scamming, brought the chips and the stunts
Fooling in the store, I'm a wizard, b*t*h I'm the GOAT
Oh, that lil' b*t*h? I'ma spin her unless I'm getting throat
Am I up? B*t*h, does it blizzard if it snows?
This the yacht life, blowing 'Woods, sh*tting on a boat
Wockhardt, we sipping when we toast
Unc' like The Rock with the dog, hit it with a boat
Unkie off two cans of beer like he Stone Cold
Throw my bicep in the air, b*t*h, I showboat
Snapchat filter while she suck it, it's a slow-mo
Talking 'bout punching something? B*t*h, you a slow ho
Yeah, like, please
Feel like Spike Lee, courtside, white tee
I'm a a**hole, why the f**k she like me?
Real life d**khead, that's why they wanna fight me
Brother man, I'll beat the sh*t out you then spit on you
Brother man, I'll up the, yeah, and then sh*t on you
Don't get a gravestone, yeah, we'll p*ss on you
freaky-a**, if you tweak, he'll lick on you
Her freaky-a**? Oh yeah, she'll lick on me
She talk 'bout you had me running when you put the tip on it
Scat Pack in the Hellcat, I had to switch on you
Hit Chase for the blue cheese then finger lick on 'em
I'm eating great, b*t*h
Smoke cake mix, hell no, I don't cake, b*t*h
Jack day sh*t for real life down the way, b*t*h
I'ma turn this lil' b*t*h cuckoo when she taste this
I ain't got no noodles, I'm a killer, I erase sh*t
If you bump into me, I'm with 'rillas, on some ape sh*t
Woke up wooping, I need Skilla on my tape, b*t*h
You got a strong-a** chest but I'ma hit you in yo face, b*t*h
God walked up to me in my dream and said I'm chose, for real
Clay got a problem with the Glock, I just hope he chill
Killers on the West, they be in Brightmoor, for real
Got a playbook, you can come get coached, for real
Skinny jeans full of bands, I done got a leg bruise
Yo baby mama sick like, damn, she brought the head through
Took her upstairs, goddamn, now the bed through
Took him upstairs, Heaven is his new bedroom
Cheated on my b*t*h, she talkin' 'bout I smell you
P90 with no cooling, I done brought hell through
Feel like Gregg Pop with my gang, I just yell shoot
Playing D, they let me find out 'bout L2
You better not let me hold square
Dior flops, I did not wax my toe hair
Hopping on this wave? Boy, you better bring a boat there
Jumped in the deep, deep, deep, no air
I need a snorkel in this b*t*h, ayy

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