BabyTron
#CERTIFIED (DJ Ess Remix)
[Intro]
(Shitty Boyz Dog Shit Militia, long live $cams, you trippin')
Fuck, shit, woo, nyah
(Roll up, kick back and chill out. You're tuned in with the hood's favorite DJ, DJ Ess, runnin' up racks for life)
Hmm, woo, hmm, woo

[Verse 1]
You walkin' 'round with a point to prove, boy, don't get popped
Huh, yeah, haha
You walkin' 'round with a point to prove, boy, don't get shot (Fuck! Brr)
They gotta switch blocks
Turned the Yola Harden, then I slap it like it's Chris Rock
Japanese bitch keep a Glock, plus she kickbox
We'll turn 'em— man, what the fuck? Hell nah (What are those!?)
We'll turn them big-ass boots to some flip-flops
Two Glocks, thirty shots, wrapped him like a gift shop
Fuck your baby mama, grab your son, then do a TikTok
They gon' have to call the— (Woo)
We done left this bitch hot (Woo)
Worse-than-the-hoes-ass boy, how you dick hop
Whеn it rain, it pours, when I walk out, I'ma drip-drop
Runnin' in the store for a pop, I'm tryna sip— Uh
Runnin' in thе store for a pop, I'm tryna sip Wock'

[Interlude]
Nyah, nyah
Uh, fuck
Shit, huh, huh, huh (Hey)
[Verse 2]
Pull up on they block and drop a ninety from the right angle
With them slimy guys, them grimy guys, don't let your ice dangle
Trippin' off the shrooms, like, "Why my eyes create a triangle?"
Woo, woo
You a Captain Save-A-Ho, I'm the bad guy
If we catch him stealin', burn his body while his hands tied
DSM, the go's the go, bitch, we the franchise
Deep in my bag, I'm lookin' like I'm tryna grab fry
Bitch, where's your friends?
Need the yerky, where's the tens?
Need a script, where's the meds'?
Back to y'all, where's the bed?
When I'm 'round the hoes, my favorite question always, "Where's the head?"
I can't go in public no more, I ain't got nowhere to spend
Opps stayin' out the way, so we ain't got nowhere to bend
Shit, just put it on the floor and send the lo' on where to send
Actin' like he on a run, he just goin' nowhere again
Arguin' with my ho late at night, I don't know where I been
Bitch, bye
Hundred shots, now his titi cryin', it's a fish fry
Me and Certi' dumpin' out the window, let us get by
On the road, doin' shows, fuck hoes, get high (Huh, huh, huh)
Tryna get up in our zone, that's an uh-uh
Tryna flick a pic' with bro, that's an uh-uh
Reachin' for somethin' that's froze? That's an uh-uh
Certi' got me in that mode, you hear—