[{"id":10097800,"name":"241","trackName":"241","artistName":"BabyTron","albumName":"MegaTron 2","duration":280.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Enrgy made this one)\nWoo, hey\nSMDSM, T-double-H-L\n\nBitch, I grew up in the jungle with the animals\nWock' mixed with Crush, cup thick like a Danimal\nBitch popped a ten and tried to eat me like a cannibal\nBackdoor season, they ain't know it was retractable\nJeffin' like you jam, DCin' like the capitol\nQuarter of the Boomies, everything feeling magical\nHundred oranges, she ain't pop 'em, though, they in her vaginal\nDog Shit Militia, when it's warfare, we tactical\nLet my white boy test thе work, he said it's radical\nAin't no numbers in them columns, you ain't valuablе\nTryna stuff a hundred in these jeans, bein' irrational\nGod strike me down if I ain't in here speakin' factual, Shitty Boyz\n\nIf the lil' bitch goin', I can't get mad at you (Nigga)\nI left brodie at the crib 'cause he too fast to shoot (Yup)\nI think I need a leaf bag, them turkey bags is through\nWalk in with a Goyard on my back\nThe Birkin bag for you if you play it right (Huh)\nIt's glow sights on the Glock 9 so we can play at night\nIt's recommended you get a feat' from me\nThis bitch'll change your life\n40 on me, not no WD, this bitch'll change your bike\nIf your team ain't got no dub yet, you need to change your five\nOh, shit, I think I just fucked up (Yeah)\nWas 'posed to sell this drank, but I poured it in my cup (Damn)\nI had to make a hundred thousand, forty ain't enough (At all)\nFiFi ain't get pulled over with them yops\nPut forty in her gut, she a stuffer\nMade 'em buy the Smitty over the Glock, said that bitch was rougher\nThe gun jammed and dog an opp, man, his ass a buster\nI done caught up to you niggas, got tired of bein' mustard\nI bought a Century Arms K, got tired of all them Russians\nI was fuckin' on that slut while you was callin' cussin'\nYou can't give fifty percent, this shit all or nothin'\nWanna make a zombie, get some work, take some naw and cut it\nCut a branch from the family tree, we just offed his cousin\nStash five thousand Andrew Jacks, that's a tall hundred\nThree of Quaggy-aggy, feel like I just tapped the pause button\nHeard you hit that runner, off a hug, you could've caught somethin'\nIt could be the 'site or the booth, we can talk punches\nCaught an opp out, excuse my French, I had to fry his ass\nDoggy got his kit on, someone grab the magnifying glass\nBro got a kit with no blick, I'm finna try his ass\nTake a nigga ice off his wrist, see if our sizes match\nDon't drive slow down this block, 'cause you could die for that\nDon't ask to sip my damn pop, I paid the high for that\nYou'll never see my damn Glock, he too shy for that\nHe seen his car on my Snapchat, I made him buy it back\n(Damjonboi)\nYeah\nIt's with an X, nigga\nFxce\nI'm locked in with the reaper like I'm Billy or somethin'\nI'm a G.O.A.T., my mama should've named me Billy or somethin'\nSeven figures worth of game, I feel like Wallo and Gillie\nThis bitch ain't good for shit unless it's swallowin' glizzy\nBrodie sent a hundred shots, I'm finna follow with fifty\nBitch said she might be pregnant, I made her swallow this Henny\nCrunch it down and turn his taco to some nachos with switchy\nI ain't gettin' groceries, lil' bitch, I'm shoppin' for giffies\nIt's summertime, so rap bars and Hellcats is all I sell\nI did a feature and eyeballed a verse 'cause I ain't had no scale\nBitch, you want a job? Go grab the mail\nTryna race in that Scat, watch this Hellcat prevail\nWoke up at one, 'cause I don't really fuck with 12\nBoys probably think I'm Mexican, 'cause they keep pickin' up my shells\nMobile banking glitching up, I got a thirty stuck on Zelle\nLife been heavenly lately, just know I had enough hell\nI done had enough of all this shit\nI knew that I was gon' be rich, I should've called that shit\nFuck around, get pistol whipped, you don't unball your fist\nWe just found that night job, finna stalk your shift\nWe already stole that nigga 'Cat, I'm finna dog his bitch\nI just beat her off a pack, she tryna call it quits\nWhen they put me in that room, I acted like I lost my lips\nOverdid the Stilpane, let me call my lift\nLet me call my bitch, fuck, I drank up all the Trish\nI didn't used to like that shit, I think I found my itch\nGivin' flavors smell tests, like, \"Shit, how much a pound of this?\"\nWe been up for so long, forgot that down exist\nYeah, my hands crampin', finna throw this shit up in the money counter\nThought he was connected with some Cubans, sent him funny powder\nIf he buy that shit with all quarters, then he an unky probably\nLil' pretty bitch, all I want is sucky-fucky out her\nThe little bitch pussy good, but I don't really give a fuck about her\nDoggy got the ho in front of jury, put the cuffs around her\nI say fuck Your Honor\nMy mans a drankhead, can't even leave my cup around him\nThey tried to set some booby traps, but I just snuck around 'em\nThese some Geobaskets, 'cause you can't rock no Chucks around me\nIf you a pit', then why your tail always tucked around me?\nPull off in the TRX, you think my brother got you\nYou been in your hustle bag? Don't let the summer stop you\nKeep your chains tucked, 'cause cuddy, he'd love to rob you\nHe'd love to kill you, nigga, you won't never feel me\nBanana clip up on the Drac', so you will never peel me\nWitchcraft with Wocky, pourin' potion, prayin' that it heal me\nPlug sent a couple bricks, he Shaquille O'Nealed me\nSpent three thousand on a jacket 'cause it was gettin' chilly\nDone beat the road down from Oregon to Mississippi","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: '241'\n  artist: BabyTron\n  album: MegaTron 2\n  duration_ms: 280000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (Enrgy made this one)\n  Woo, hey\n  SMDSM, T-double-H-L\n\n  Bitch, I grew up in the jungle with the animals\n  Wock' mixed with Crush, cup thick like a Danimal\n  Bitch popped a ten and tried to eat me like a cannibal\n  Backdoor season, they ain't know it was retractable\n  Jeffin' like you jam, DCin' like the capitol\n  Quarter of the Boomies, everything feeling magical\n  Hundred oranges, she ain't pop 'em, though, they in her vaginal\n  Dog Shit Militia, when it's warfare, we tactical\n  Let my white boy test thе work, he said it's radical\n  Ain't no numbers in them columns, you ain't valuablе\n  Tryna stuff a hundred in these jeans, bein' irrational\n  God strike me down if I ain't in here speakin' factual, Shitty Boyz\n\n  If the lil' bitch goin', I can't get mad at you (Nigga)\n  I left brodie at the crib 'cause he too fast to shoot (Yup)\n  I think I need a leaf bag, them turkey bags is through\n  Walk in with a Goyard on my back\n  The Birkin bag for you if you play it right (Huh)\n  It's glow sights on the Glock 9 so we can play at night\n  It's recommended you get a feat' from me\n  This bitch'll change your life\n  40 on me, not no WD, this bitch'll change your bike\n  If your team ain't got no dub yet, you need to change your five\n  Oh, shit, I think I just fucked up (Yeah)\n  Was 'posed to sell this drank, but I poured it in my cup (Damn)\n  I had to make a hundred thousand, forty ain't enough (At all)\n  FiFi ain't get pulled over with them yops\n  Put forty in her gut, she a stuffer\n  Made 'em buy the Smitty over the Glock, said that bitch was rougher\n  The gun jammed and dog an opp, man, his ass a buster\n  I done caught up to you niggas, got tired of bein' mustard\n  I bought a Century Arms K, got tired of all them Russians\n  I was fuckin' on that slut while you was callin' cussin'\n  You can't give fifty percent, this shit all or nothin'\n  Wanna make a zombie, get some work, take some naw and cut it\n  Cut a branch from the family tree, we just offed his cousin\n  Stash five thousand Andrew Jacks, that's a tall hundred\n  Three of Quaggy-aggy, feel like I just tapped the pause button\n  Heard you hit that runner, off a hug, you could've caught somethin'\n  It could be the 'site or the booth, we can talk punches\n  Caught an opp out, excuse my French, I had to fry his ass\n  Doggy got his kit on, someone grab the magnifying glass\n  Bro got a kit with no blick, I'm finna try his ass\n  Take a nigga ice off his wrist, see if our sizes match\n  Don't drive slow down this block, 'cause you could die for that\n  Don't ask to sip my damn pop, I paid the high for that\n  You'll never see my damn Glock, he too shy for that\n  He seen his car on my Snapchat, I made him buy it back\n  (Damjonboi)\n  Yeah\n  It's with an X, nigga\n  Fxce\n  I'm locked in with the reaper like I'm Billy or somethin'\n  I'm a G.O.A.T., my mama should've named me Billy or somethin'\n  Seven figures worth of game, I feel like Wallo and Gillie\n  This bitch ain't good for shit unless it's swallowin' glizzy\n  Brodie sent a hundred shots, I'm finna follow with fifty\n  Bitch said she might be pregnant, I made her swallow this Henny\n  Crunch it down and turn his taco to some nachos with switchy\n  I ain't gettin' groceries, lil' bitch, I'm shoppin' for giffies\n  It's summertime, so rap bars and Hellcats is all I sell\n  I did a feature and eyeballed a verse 'cause I ain't had no scale\n  Bitch, you want a job? Go grab the mail\n  Tryna race in that Scat, watch this Hellcat prevail\n  Woke up at one, 'cause I don't really fuck with 12\n  Boys probably think I'm Mexican, 'cause they keep pickin' up my shells\n  Mobile banking glitching up, I got a thirty stuck on Zelle\n  Life been heavenly lately, just know I had enough hell\n  I done had enough of all this shit\n  I knew that I was gon' be rich, I should've called that shit\n  Fuck around, get pistol whipped, you don't unball your fist\n  We just found that night job, finna stalk your shift\n  We already stole that nigga 'Cat, I'm finna dog his bitch\n  I just beat her off a pack, she tryna call it quits\n  When they put me in that room, I acted like I lost my lips\n  Overdid the Stilpane, let me call my lift\n  Let me call my bitch, fuck, I drank up all the Trish\n  I didn't used to like that shit, I think I found my itch\n  Givin' flavors smell tests, like, \"Shit, how much a pound of this?\"\n  We been up for so long, forgot that down exist\n  Yeah, my hands crampin', finna throw this shit up in the money counter\n  Thought he was connected with some Cubans, sent him funny powder\n  If he buy that shit with all quarters, then he an unky probably\n  Lil' pretty bitch, all I want is sucky-fucky out her\n  The little bitch pussy good, but I don't really give a fuck about her\n  Doggy got the ho in front of jury, put the cuffs around her\n  I say fuck Your Honor\n  My mans a drankhead, can't even leave my cup around him\n  They tried to set some booby traps, but I just snuck around 'em\n  These some Geobaskets, 'cause you can't rock no Chucks around me\n  If you a pit', then why your tail always tucked around me?\n  Pull off in the TRX, you think my brother got you\n  You been in your hustle bag? Don't let the summer stop you\n  Keep your chains tucked, 'cause cuddy, he'd love to rob you\n  He'd love to kill you, nigga, you won't never feel me\n  Banana clip up on the Drac', so you will never peel me\n  Witchcraft with Wocky, pourin' potion, prayin' that it heal me\n  Plug sent a couple bricks, he Shaquille O'Nealed me\n  Spent three thousand on a jacket 'cause it was gettin' chilly\n  Done beat the road down from Oregon to Mississippi\n"},{"id":36265153,"name":"241","trackName":"241","artistName":"BabyTron","albumName":"Babyfxce E","duration":281.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Enrgy made this one)\nWoo, hey\nSMDSM, T-double-H-L\n\nBitch, I grew up in the jungle with the animals\nWock' mixed with Crush, cup thick like a Danimal\nBitch popped a ten and tried to eat me like a cannibal\nBackdoor season, they ain't know it was retractable\nJeffin' like you jam, DCin' like the capitol\nQuarter of the Boomies, everything feeling magical\nHundred oranges, she ain't pop 'em, though, they in her vaginal\nDog Shit Militia, when it's warfare, we tactical\nLet my white boy test thе work, he said it's radical\nAin't no numbers in them columns, you ain't valuablе\nTryna stuff a hundred in these jeans, bein' irrational\nGod strike me down if I ain't in here speakin' factual, Shitty Boyz\n\nIf the lil' bitch goin', I can't get mad at you (Nigga)\nI left brodie at the crib 'cause he too fast to shoot (Yup)\nI think I need a leaf bag, them turkey bags is through\nWalk in with a Goyard on my back\nThe Birkin bag for you if you play it right (Huh)\nIt's glow sights on the Glock 9 so we can play at night\nIt's recommended you get a feat' from me\nThis bitch'll change your life\n40 on me, not no WD, this bitch'll change your bike\nIf your team ain't got no dub yet, you need to change your five\nOh, shit, I think I just fucked up (Yeah)\nWas 'posed to sell this drank, but I poured it in my cup (Damn)\nI had to make a hundred thousand, forty ain't enough (At all)\nFiFi ain't get pulled over with them yops\nPut forty in her gut, she a stuffer\nMade 'em buy the Smitty over the Glock, said that bitch was rougher\nThe gun jammed and dog an opp, man, his ass a buster\nI done caught up to you niggas, got tired of bein' mustard\nI bought a Century Arms K, got tired of all them Russians\nI was fuckin' on that slut while you was callin' cussin'\nYou can't give fifty percent, this shit all or nothin'\nWanna make a zombie, get some work, take some naw and cut it\nCut a branch from the family tree, we just offed his cousin\nStash five thousand Andrew Jacks, that's a tall hundred\nThree of Quaggy-aggy, feel like I just tapped the pause button\nHeard you hit that runner, off a hug, you could've caught somethin'\nIt could be the 'site or the booth, we can talk punches\nCaught an opp out, excuse my French, I had to fry his ass\nDoggy got his kit on, someone grab the magnifying glass\nBro got a kit with no blick, I'm finna try his ass\nTake a nigga ice off his wrist, see if our sizes match\nDon't drive slow down this block, 'cause you could die for that\nDon't ask to sip my damn pop, I paid the high for that\nYou'll never see my damn Glock, he too shy for that\nHe seen his car on my Snapchat, I made him buy it back\n(Damjonboi)\nYeah\nIt's with an X, nigga\nFxce\nI'm locked in with the reaper like I'm Billy or somethin'\nI'm a G.O.A.T., my mama should've named me Billy or somethin'\nSeven figures worth of game, I feel like Wallo and Gillie\nThis bitch ain't good for shit unless it's swallowin' glizzy\nBrodie sent a hundred shots, I'm finna follow with fifty\nBitch said she might be pregnant, I made her swallow this Henny\nCrunch it down and turn his taco to some nachos with switchy\nI ain't gettin' groceries, lil' bitch, I'm shoppin' for giffies\nIt's summertime, so rap bars and Hellcats is all I sell\nI did a feature and eyeballed a verse 'cause I ain't had no scale\nBitch, you want a job? Go grab the mail\nTryna race in that Scat, watch this Hellcat prevail\nWoke up at one, 'cause I don't really fuck with 12\nBoys probably think I'm Mexican, 'cause they keep pickin' up my shells\nMobile banking glitching up, I got a thirty stuck on Zelle\nLife been heavenly lately, just know I had enough hell\nI done had enough of all this shit\nI knew that I was gon' be rich, I should've called that shit\nFuck around, get pistol whipped, you don't unball your fist\nWe just found that night job, finna stalk your shift\nWe already stole that nigga 'Cat, I'm finna dog his bitch\nI just beat her off a pack, she tryna call it quits\nWhen they put me in that room, I acted like I lost my lips\nOverdid the Stilpane, let me call my lift\nLet me call my bitch, fuck, I drank up all the Trish\nI didn't used to like that shit, I think I found my itch\nGivin' flavors smell tests, like, \"Shit, how much a pound of this?\"\nWe been up for so long, forgot that down exist\nYeah, my hands crampin', finna throw this shit up in the money counter\nThought he was connected with some Cubans, sent him funny powder\nIf he buy that shit with all quarters, then he an unky probably\nLil' pretty bitch, all I want is sucky-fucky out her\nThe little bitch pussy good, but I don't really give a fuck about her\nDoggy got the ho in front of jury, put the cuffs around her\nI say fuck Your Honor\nMy mans a drankhead, can't even leave my cup around him\nThey tried to set some booby traps, but I just snuck around 'em\nThese some Geobaskets, 'cause you can't rock no Chucks around me\nIf you a pit', then why your tail always tucked around me?\nPull off in the TRX, you think my brother got you\nYou been in your hustle bag? Don't let the summer stop you\nKeep your chains tucked, 'cause cuddy, he'd love to rob you\nHe'd love to kill you, nigga, you won't never feel me\nBanana clip up on the Drac', so you will never peel me\nWitchcraft with Wocky, pourin' potion, prayin' that it heal me\nPlug sent a couple bricks, he Shaquille O'Nealed me\nSpent three thousand on a jacket 'cause it was gettin' chilly\nDone beat the road down from Oregon to Mississippi","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: '241'\n  artist: BabyTron\n  album: Babyfxce E\n  duration_ms: 281000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (Enrgy made this one)\n  Woo, hey\n  SMDSM, T-double-H-L\n\n  Bitch, I grew up in the jungle with the animals\n  Wock' mixed with Crush, cup thick like a Danimal\n  Bitch popped a ten and tried to eat me like a cannibal\n  Backdoor season, they ain't know it was retractable\n  Jeffin' like you jam, DCin' like the capitol\n  Quarter of the Boomies, everything feeling magical\n  Hundred oranges, she ain't pop 'em, though, they in her vaginal\n  Dog Shit Militia, when it's warfare, we tactical\n  Let my white boy test thе work, he said it's radical\n  Ain't no numbers in them columns, you ain't valuablе\n  Tryna stuff a hundred in these jeans, bein' irrational\n  God strike me down if I ain't in here speakin' factual, Shitty Boyz\n\n  If the lil' bitch goin', I can't get mad at you (Nigga)\n  I left brodie at the crib 'cause he too fast to shoot (Yup)\n  I think I need a leaf bag, them turkey bags is through\n  Walk in with a Goyard on my back\n  The Birkin bag for you if you play it right (Huh)\n  It's glow sights on the Glock 9 so we can play at night\n  It's recommended you get a feat' from me\n  This bitch'll change your life\n  40 on me, not no WD, this bitch'll change your bike\n  If your team ain't got no dub yet, you need to change your five\n  Oh, shit, I think I just fucked up (Yeah)\n  Was 'posed to sell this drank, but I poured it in my cup (Damn)\n  I had to make a hundred thousand, forty ain't enough (At all)\n  FiFi ain't get pulled over with them yops\n  Put forty in her gut, she a stuffer\n  Made 'em buy the Smitty over the Glock, said that bitch was rougher\n  The gun jammed and dog an opp, man, his ass a buster\n  I done caught up to you niggas, got tired of bein' mustard\n  I bought a Century Arms K, got tired of all them Russians\n  I was fuckin' on that slut while you was callin' cussin'\n  You can't give fifty percent, this shit all or nothin'\n  Wanna make a zombie, get some work, take some naw and cut it\n  Cut a branch from the family tree, we just offed his cousin\n  Stash five thousand Andrew Jacks, that's a tall hundred\n  Three of Quaggy-aggy, feel like I just tapped the pause button\n  Heard you hit that runner, off a hug, you could've caught somethin'\n  It could be the 'site or the booth, we can talk punches\n  Caught an opp out, excuse my French, I had to fry his ass\n  Doggy got his kit on, someone grab the magnifying glass\n  Bro got a kit with no blick, I'm finna try his ass\n  Take a nigga ice off his wrist, see if our sizes match\n  Don't drive slow down this block, 'cause you could die for that\n  Don't ask to sip my damn pop, I paid the high for that\n  You'll never see my damn Glock, he too shy for that\n  He seen his car on my Snapchat, I made him buy it back\n  (Damjonboi)\n  Yeah\n  It's with an X, nigga\n  Fxce\n  I'm locked in with the reaper like I'm Billy or somethin'\n  I'm a G.O.A.T., my mama should've named me Billy or somethin'\n  Seven figures worth of game, I feel like Wallo and Gillie\n  This bitch ain't good for shit unless it's swallowin' glizzy\n  Brodie sent a hundred shots, I'm finna follow with fifty\n  Bitch said she might be pregnant, I made her swallow this Henny\n  Crunch it down and turn his taco to some nachos with switchy\n  I ain't gettin' groceries, lil' bitch, I'm shoppin' for giffies\n  It's summertime, so rap bars and Hellcats is all I sell\n  I did a feature and eyeballed a verse 'cause I ain't had no scale\n  Bitch, you want a job? Go grab the mail\n  Tryna race in that Scat, watch this Hellcat prevail\n  Woke up at one, 'cause I don't really fuck with 12\n  Boys probably think I'm Mexican, 'cause they keep pickin' up my shells\n  Mobile banking glitching up, I got a thirty stuck on Zelle\n  Life been heavenly lately, just know I had enough hell\n  I done had enough of all this shit\n  I knew that I was gon' be rich, I should've called that shit\n  Fuck around, get pistol whipped, you don't unball your fist\n  We just found that night job, finna stalk your shift\n  We already stole that nigga 'Cat, I'm finna dog his bitch\n  I just beat her off a pack, she tryna call it quits\n  When they put me in that room, I acted like I lost my lips\n  Overdid the Stilpane, let me call my lift\n  Let me call my bitch, fuck, I drank up all the Trish\n  I didn't used to like that shit, I think I found my itch\n  Givin' flavors smell tests, like, \"Shit, how much a pound of this?\"\n  We been up for so long, forgot that down exist\n  Yeah, my hands crampin', finna throw this shit up in the money counter\n  Thought he was connected with some Cubans, sent him funny powder\n  If he buy that shit with all quarters, then he an unky probably\n  Lil' pretty bitch, all I want is sucky-fucky out her\n  The little bitch pussy good, but I don't really give a fuck about her\n  Doggy got the ho in front of jury, put the cuffs around her\n  I say fuck Your Honor\n  My mans a drankhead, can't even leave my cup around him\n  They tried to set some booby traps, but I just snuck around 'em\n  These some Geobaskets, 'cause you can't rock no Chucks around me\n  If you a pit', then why your tail always tucked around me?\n  Pull off in the TRX, you think my brother got you\n  You been in your hustle bag? Don't let the summer stop you\n  Keep your chains tucked, 'cause cuddy, he'd love to rob you\n  He'd love to kill you, nigga, you won't never feel me\n  Banana clip up on the Drac', so you will never peel me\n  Witchcraft with Wocky, pourin' potion, prayin' that it heal me\n  Plug sent a couple bricks, he Shaquille O'Nealed me\n  Spent three thousand on a jacket 'cause it was gettin' chilly\n  Done beat the road down from Oregon to Mississippi\n"},{"id":10365119,"name":"241","trackName":"241","artistName":"BabyTron & Babyfxce E","albumName":"MegaTron 2","duration":280.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Enrgy made this one)\nWoo, hey\nSMDSM, T-double-H-L\n\nBitch, I grew up in the jungle with the animals\nWock' mixed with Crush, cup thick like a Danimal\nBitch popped a ten and tried to eat me like a cannibal\nBackdoor season, they ain't know it was retractable\nJeffin' like you jam, DCin' like the capitol\nQuarter of the Boomies, everything feeling magical\nHundred oranges, she ain't pop 'em, though, they in her vaginal\nDog Shit Militia, when it's warfare, we tactical\nLet my white boy test thе work, he said it's radical\nAin't no numbers in them columns, you ain't valuablе\nTryna stuff a hundred in these jeans, bein' irrational\nGod strike me down if I ain't in here speakin' factual, Shitty Boyz\n\nIf the lil' bitch goin', I can't get mad at you (Nigga)\nI left brodie at the crib 'cause he too fast to shoot (Yup)\nI think I need a leaf bag, them turkey bags is through\nWalk in with a Goyard on my back\nThe Birkin bag for you if you play it right (Huh)\nIt's glow sights on the Glock 9 so we can play at night\nIt's recommended you get a feat' from me\nThis bitch'll change your life\n40 on me, not no WD, this bitch'll change your bike\nIf your team ain't got no dub yet, you need to change your five\nOh, shit, I think I just fucked up (Yeah)\nWas 'posed to sell this drank, but I poured it in my cup (Damn)\nI had to make a hundred thousand, forty ain't enough (At all)\nFiFi ain't get pulled over with them yops\nPut forty in her gut, she a stuffer\nMade 'em buy the Smitty over the Glock, said that bitch was rougher\nThe gun jammed and dog an opp, man, his ass a buster\nI done caught up to you niggas, got tired of bein' mustard\nI bought a Century Arms K, got tired of all them Russians\nI was fuckin' on that slut while you was callin' cussin'\nYou can't give fifty percent, this shit all or nothin'\nWanna make a zombie, get some work, take some naw and cut it\nCut a branch from the family tree, we just offed his cousin\nStash five thousand Andrew Jacks, that's a tall hundred\nThree of Quaggy-aggy, feel like I just tapped the pause button\nHeard you hit that runner, off a hug, you could've caught somethin'\nIt could be the 'site or the booth, we can talk punches\nCaught an opp out, excuse my French, I had to fry his ass\nDoggy got his kit on, someone grab the magnifying glass\nBro got a kit with no blick, I'm finna try his ass\nTake a nigga ice off his wrist, see if our sizes match\nDon't drive slow down this block, 'cause you could die for that\nDon't ask to sip my damn pop, I paid the high for that\nYou'll never see my damn Glock, he too shy for that\nHe seen his car on my Snapchat, I made him buy it back\n(Damjonboi)\nYeah\nIt's with an X, nigga\nFxce\nI'm locked in with the reaper like I'm Billy or somethin'\nI'm a G.O.A.T., my mama should've named me Billy or somethin'\nSeven figures worth of game, I feel like Wallo and Gillie\nThis bitch ain't good for shit unless it's swallowin' glizzy\nBrodie sent a hundred shots, I'm finna follow with fifty\nBitch said she might be pregnant, I made her swallow this Henny\nCrunch it down and turn his taco to some nachos with switchy\nI ain't gettin' groceries, lil' bitch, I'm shoppin' for giffies\nIt's summertime, so rap bars and Hellcats is all I sell\nI did a feature and eyeballed a verse 'cause I ain't had no scale\nBitch, you want a job? Go grab the mail\nTryna race in that Scat, watch this Hellcat prevail\nWoke up at one, 'cause I don't really fuck with 12\nBoys probably think I'm Mexican, 'cause they keep pickin' up my shells\nMobile banking glitching up, I got a thirty stuck on Zelle\nLife been heavenly lately, just know I had enough hell\nI done had enough of all this shit\nI knew that I was gon' be rich, I should've called that shit\nFuck around, get pistol whipped, you don't unball your fist\nWe just found that night job, finna stalk your shift\nWe already stole that nigga 'Cat, I'm finna dog his bitch\nI just beat her off a pack, she tryna call it quits\nWhen they put me in that room, I acted like I lost my lips\nOverdid the Stilpane, let me call my lift\nLet me call my bitch, fuck, I drank up all the Trish\nI didn't used to like that shit, I think I found my itch\nGivin' flavors smell tests, like, \"Shit, how much a pound of this?\"\nWe been up for so long, forgot that down exist\nYeah, my hands crampin', finna throw this shit up in the money counter\nThought he was connected with some Cubans, sent him funny powder\nIf he buy that shit with all quarters, then he an unky probably\nLil' pretty bitch, all I want is sucky-fucky out her\nThe little bitch pussy good, but I don't really give a fuck about her\nDoggy got the ho in front of jury, put the cuffs around her\nI say fuck Your Honor\nMy mans a drankhead, can't even leave my cup around him\nThey tried to set some booby traps, but I just snuck around 'em\nThese some Geobaskets, 'cause you can't rock no Chucks around me\nIf you a pit', then why your tail always tucked around me?\nPull off in the TRX, you think my brother got you\nYou been in your hustle bag? Don't let the summer stop you\nKeep your chains tucked, 'cause cuddy, he'd love to rob you\nHe'd love to kill you, nigga, you won't never feel me\nBanana clip up on the Drac', so you will never peel me\nWitchcraft with Wocky, pourin' potion, prayin' that it heal me\nPlug sent a couple bricks, he Shaquille O'Nealed me\nSpent three thousand on a jacket 'cause it was gettin' chilly\nDone beat the road down from Oregon to Mississippi","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: '241'\n  artist: BabyTron & Babyfxce E\n  album: MegaTron 2\n  duration_ms: 280000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (Enrgy made this one)\n  Woo, hey\n  SMDSM, T-double-H-L\n\n  Bitch, I grew up in the jungle with the animals\n  Wock' mixed with Crush, cup thick like a Danimal\n  Bitch popped a ten and tried to eat me like a cannibal\n  Backdoor season, they ain't know it was retractable\n  Jeffin' like you jam, DCin' like the capitol\n  Quarter of the Boomies, everything feeling magical\n  Hundred oranges, she ain't pop 'em, though, they in her vaginal\n  Dog Shit Militia, when it's warfare, we tactical\n  Let my white boy test thе work, he said it's radical\n  Ain't no numbers in them columns, you ain't valuablе\n  Tryna stuff a hundred in these jeans, bein' irrational\n  God strike me down if I ain't in here speakin' factual, Shitty Boyz\n\n  If the lil' bitch goin', I can't get mad at you (Nigga)\n  I left brodie at the crib 'cause he too fast to shoot (Yup)\n  I think I need a leaf bag, them turkey bags is through\n  Walk in with a Goyard on my back\n  The Birkin bag for you if you play it right (Huh)\n  It's glow sights on the Glock 9 so we can play at night\n  It's recommended you get a feat' from me\n  This bitch'll change your life\n  40 on me, not no WD, this bitch'll change your bike\n  If your team ain't got no dub yet, you need to change your five\n  Oh, shit, I think I just fucked up (Yeah)\n  Was 'posed to sell this drank, but I poured it in my cup (Damn)\n  I had to make a hundred thousand, forty ain't enough (At all)\n  FiFi ain't get pulled over with them yops\n  Put forty in her gut, she a stuffer\n  Made 'em buy the Smitty over the Glock, said that bitch was rougher\n  The gun jammed and dog an opp, man, his ass a buster\n  I done caught up to you niggas, got tired of bein' mustard\n  I bought a Century Arms K, got tired of all them Russians\n  I was fuckin' on that slut while you was callin' cussin'\n  You can't give fifty percent, this shit all or nothin'\n  Wanna make a zombie, get some work, take some naw and cut it\n  Cut a branch from the family tree, we just offed his cousin\n  Stash five thousand Andrew Jacks, that's a tall hundred\n  Three of Quaggy-aggy, feel like I just tapped the pause button\n  Heard you hit that runner, off a hug, you could've caught somethin'\n  It could be the 'site or the booth, we can talk punches\n  Caught an opp out, excuse my French, I had to fry his ass\n  Doggy got his kit on, someone grab the magnifying glass\n  Bro got a kit with no blick, I'm finna try his ass\n  Take a nigga ice off his wrist, see if our sizes match\n  Don't drive slow down this block, 'cause you could die for that\n  Don't ask to sip my damn pop, I paid the high for that\n  You'll never see my damn Glock, he too shy for that\n  He seen his car on my Snapchat, I made him buy it back\n  (Damjonboi)\n  Yeah\n  It's with an X, nigga\n  Fxce\n  I'm locked in with the reaper like I'm Billy or somethin'\n  I'm a G.O.A.T., my mama should've named me Billy or somethin'\n  Seven figures worth of game, I feel like Wallo and Gillie\n  This bitch ain't good for shit unless it's swallowin' glizzy\n  Brodie sent a hundred shots, I'm finna follow with fifty\n  Bitch said she might be pregnant, I made her swallow this Henny\n  Crunch it down and turn his taco to some nachos with switchy\n  I ain't gettin' groceries, lil' bitch, I'm shoppin' for giffies\n  It's summertime, so rap bars and Hellcats is all I sell\n  I did a feature and eyeballed a verse 'cause I ain't had no scale\n  Bitch, you want a job? Go grab the mail\n  Tryna race in that Scat, watch this Hellcat prevail\n  Woke up at one, 'cause I don't really fuck with 12\n  Boys probably think I'm Mexican, 'cause they keep pickin' up my shells\n  Mobile banking glitching up, I got a thirty stuck on Zelle\n  Life been heavenly lately, just know I had enough hell\n  I done had enough of all this shit\n  I knew that I was gon' be rich, I should've called that shit\n  Fuck around, get pistol whipped, you don't unball your fist\n  We just found that night job, finna stalk your shift\n  We already stole that nigga 'Cat, I'm finna dog his bitch\n  I just beat her off a pack, she tryna call it quits\n  When they put me in that room, I acted like I lost my lips\n  Overdid the Stilpane, let me call my lift\n  Let me call my bitch, fuck, I drank up all the Trish\n  I didn't used to like that shit, I think I found my itch\n  Givin' flavors smell tests, like, \"Shit, how much a pound of this?\"\n  We been up for so long, forgot that down exist\n  Yeah, my hands crampin', finna throw this shit up in the money counter\n  Thought he was connected with some Cubans, sent him funny powder\n  If he buy that shit with all quarters, then he an unky probably\n  Lil' pretty bitch, all I want is sucky-fucky out her\n  The little bitch pussy good, but I don't really give a fuck about her\n  Doggy got the ho in front of jury, put the cuffs around her\n  I say fuck Your Honor\n  My mans a drankhead, can't even leave my cup around him\n  They tried to set some booby traps, but I just snuck around 'em\n  These some Geobaskets, 'cause you can't rock no Chucks around me\n  If you a pit', then why your tail always tucked around me?\n  Pull off in the TRX, you think my brother got you\n  You been in your hustle bag? Don't let the summer stop you\n  Keep your chains tucked, 'cause cuddy, he'd love to rob you\n  He'd love to kill you, nigga, you won't never feel me\n  Banana clip up on the Drac', so you will never peel me\n  Witchcraft with Wocky, pourin' potion, prayin' that it heal me\n  Plug sent a couple bricks, he Shaquille O'Nealed me\n  Spent three thousand on a jacket 'cause it was gettin' chilly\n  Done beat the road down from Oregon to Mississippi\n"}]