No Cameraman Around BabyTron & Certified Trapper

[Intro]
(Alloutw4r)

[Verse: Certified Trapper & BabyTron]
Hit you, one shot, zoti got my lungs hot
We put belt to ass if we catch you on that one block
Livin' on the interstate, I woke up at the truck stop
When I hit your bitch and slam dunk, it ain't no jump shots
Who Decides War full of chicken like a lunchbox
Woke up in my bag, ain't nobody hit me with that fire
You would think I was the juice man the way I pour the pop
Ayy, ayy, me and BabyTron, switch, and a .45
Phew
Deuce in a blue Moon Mist, I'm headed towards the sky
Chances make champs, I might fake punt at fourth and five
Turned into the walking dead off a couple Morty lines
I cannot believe thе shit these lil' whores bе glorifyin'
Crack the window, aimin' two switches, have him horrified
Searchin' 'round, tryna catch his hat 'cause he ain't scorin' mine
Every time he get around the hoes, it's story time
He ain't walk out with a pole, doggy slow or he's high
I just took a three grams of 'shrooms, bitch, I'm more than high
Everything I touch, got it meltin', bitch, I'm more than hot
Hundred thousand on me, ain't no cameraman around
Bro ain't got no legal motion, shit, he scammin' hams for now
Hand-in-hands for now, he slammin' grams for now
Dudey said he active in the trap, ain't slapped a half an ounce
I can start the drought
Blow the Cookie out the pack, got the neighbors say it's foul
Make a single funny move, cuddy puttin' your ass down
Pfft, put 'em in the ground
We ain't tryna put these in your house, come out
Wear a mask, apron, and some gloves 'cause this shit might jump out
Th-th-thumb, th-th-thumb, this shit ain't finna run out
.357, bitch'll move a couch
Talkin' 'bout you's gettin' money, what you doin' now?