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Wheel of Fortune
by
BabyTron
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Lyrics
Sh*ttyBoyz On the road for thirty days and thirty nights No punches through this b*t*h, doing thirty?fights Circled?on the opp?block, we hit thirty rights Looking at?my future like you staring up at thirty lights Don't ask?what's?in?the cup, don't?you see me?with the Drank God? Don't ask do it hit, don't you see me with the Punch God? Tapped in, get a n***a touched like a iPod She wanna make a movie, set the cam on the tripod Punching like a black belt, I'm a card master Emotionless, I'll leave a b*t*h heart shattered Good cappage on the 'Gram, you're a star actor In store with fire, b*t*h, I'm flaming like I'm Charmander Yeah, pop a school bus, I'm a bar master Big chop that'll knock a n***a car backwards Two beams on a Glock like car hazards Drank God, b*t*h, I'm balling like March Madness With all this energy, boy must be Duracell For all the grannies that I jugged, I might burn in Hell Brought the slides in store, that's the burning smell Come and get this Fraud Bible, boy, it's working well No cap, this BIN gon' put my n***as all on She ain't sucking d**k? She should spin and send her a** home I can't wait till Apple drop them iPhones She a real freak, she don't do it with the lights on Game sliders cranked up, I done found the glitch D1 with the punch work, come and scout the kid In BOA acting bad, boy, I'm counting slips Life jacket underneath the fit, I might drown in drip So much water on my neck, I might drown the b*t*h Greyhound, only time that I hound a b*t*h Finna do a turn around for right now and a six What's that stanking in my pocket? A pile of sh*t Money on the floor, I'm spinning hoes like the Wheel of Fortune Spikes on my toes, you a crumb, boy, you still in Jordans What you paid for yo fit was my bill in Morton's Even when I'm six feet deep but I'm still important You ain't getting money, you just be where the rappers be I better not catch you lame-a** n***as where the b*t*hes be I ain't got a heart, I just like to wear it on my tee Middle finger to them lame n***as that ever doubted me Feel like Lil Tecca, I just held an opp for ransom Grabbed the jacks and disappeared, I am not a phantom SB blasting off, boy, yo rocket landing Pull up like I'm Stone Cold, let the choppa slam him Think I'm shooting videos, how I'm copping cannons Finna pour the Hi-Tech, hold the Wock' for ransom I don't be f**king with no rats, n***as hot as Tampa Me and [?] dropped a eighth in a drop of Fanta, b*t*h
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