Back to Top

Woulda Coulda Shoulda Video (MV)




Performed By: BabyTron
Featuring: Certified Trapper
Language: English
Length: 2:16
Written by: James Johnson IV, Daishun Graham




BabyTron - Woulda Coulda Shoulda Lyrics
Official




[ Featuring Certified Trapper ]

Hey
(Meech)

Russian Creams in natural leafs, I don't smoke grape
Zottarooni X the wax, I don't smoke Bape
I've been tryna catch this half for like four days
I got boy and a girl, they want both ways
All this ice, I might cause a f*ckin' snow day
Think he f*ckin' with us, then his name must be Jose, it's no way
Bum-ass nigga, I'm the brick man
I'ma cock it back, shoot it if my blick jam
All I do is click one to call my f*ckin' hitman
Bustdown, do the turd, bitch, I'm the shit man
Pockets lookin' stuffed, could fit another ten
Yeah, them niggas cool, we don't f*ck with them
You got lil' boy chicken, this some f*ckin' ham
You might catch me out in Tokyo just uppin' yen
Glock 32 shots, I might glitch a ten
All these f*ckin' missed calls think I'm servin' meds
Monkey on my hoodie, but I'm not the middle man
Furry Marnie vest, it's lookin' like a Skittles bag
See this Glock with the switch? I'm finna get your ass
Come through crawlin' through your bushes, it'll get like that
Ooh, how this bitch do the splits like that?
I think she want my kids, like why she kiss the dick like that?
All that f*ckin' ass, why you sit like that?
Spend fifty up in Johnny, I get right back
Hittin' all them licks, you gon' die or get a kit like that
I just bit a fifteen, that bitch bit right back
Don't try to rob me, get killed like that
I'ma put it to his head and hit his hat
I'm the type to stand out while I'm sittin' back
Lamb' trucks nowadays, we used to trip in tracks
I just f*cked your lil' bitch, here your kitten back
You ain't got no real food, you just hittin' 'Lac
Ghost Glocky, I ain't never took a pistol class
Everybody should've wore a mask, the whole kitchen smacked
The hoods, the juggs, the would've's, the should've's, the could've's
We play a cold game, you could never f*ck with us
I be with the pushers, whole time, I was with some wolfers
All I gotta do is give the look to Bean and he gon' he gon' cook him
I don't even gotta pop the bean, I'ma whoop him
You can give me twenty, nigga, ten, I'ma cook him
How the f*ck is he a rapper? Who the f*ck gon' book him?
Throwin' 'oops behind the back, I'ma f*ck around, no look 'em
Unky got the babies in, who you think gon' push 'em?
Unky got the babies in, who you think gon' whoop 'em?
.556 hit his spinal cord, f*ck up his footin'
Whippin' fetty in the pot, it's lookin' like some pudding
Hit that nigga fetty with some Wap, have that nigga shooken (Meech)
Two Glock switchy ridin' hot (hot)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


English

Hey
(Meech)

Russian Creams in natural leafs, I don't smoke grape
Zottarooni X the wax, I don't smoke Bape
I've been tryna catch this half for like four days
I got boy and a girl, they want both ways
All this ice, I might cause a f*ckin' snow day
Think he f*ckin' with us, then his name must be Jose, it's no way
Bum-ass nigga, I'm the brick man
I'ma cock it back, shoot it if my blick jam
All I do is click one to call my f*ckin' hitman
Bustdown, do the turd, bitch, I'm the shit man
Pockets lookin' stuffed, could fit another ten
Yeah, them niggas cool, we don't f*ck with them
You got lil' boy chicken, this some f*ckin' ham
You might catch me out in Tokyo just uppin' yen
Glock 32 shots, I might glitch a ten
All these f*ckin' missed calls think I'm servin' meds
Monkey on my hoodie, but I'm not the middle man
Furry Marnie vest, it's lookin' like a Skittles bag
See this Glock with the switch? I'm finna get your ass
Come through crawlin' through your bushes, it'll get like that
Ooh, how this bitch do the splits like that?
I think she want my kids, like why she kiss the dick like that?
All that f*ckin' ass, why you sit like that?
Spend fifty up in Johnny, I get right back
Hittin' all them licks, you gon' die or get a kit like that
I just bit a fifteen, that bitch bit right back
Don't try to rob me, get killed like that
I'ma put it to his head and hit his hat
I'm the type to stand out while I'm sittin' back
Lamb' trucks nowadays, we used to trip in tracks
I just f*cked your lil' bitch, here your kitten back
You ain't got no real food, you just hittin' 'Lac
Ghost Glocky, I ain't never took a pistol class
Everybody should've wore a mask, the whole kitchen smacked
The hoods, the juggs, the would've's, the should've's, the could've's
We play a cold game, you could never f*ck with us
I be with the pushers, whole time, I was with some wolfers
All I gotta do is give the look to Bean and he gon' he gon' cook him
I don't even gotta pop the bean, I'ma whoop him
You can give me twenty, nigga, ten, I'ma cook him
How the f*ck is he a rapper? Who the f*ck gon' book him?
Throwin' 'oops behind the back, I'ma f*ck around, no look 'em
Unky got the babies in, who you think gon' push 'em?
Unky got the babies in, who you think gon' whoop 'em?
.556 hit his spinal cord, f*ck up his footin'
Whippin' fetty in the pot, it's lookin' like some pudding
Hit that nigga fetty with some Wap, have that nigga shooken (Meech)
Two Glock switchy ridin' hot (hot)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: James Johnson IV, Daishun Graham
Copyright: Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING

Back to: BabyTron

Tags:
No tags yet