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Neymar Video (MV)




Performed By: BabyTron
Language: English
Length: 2:30
Written by: James Edward Johnson IV




BabyTron - Neymar Lyrics
Official




Talking to the mic, it's no one else to vent to
He'll go and blow it all, know when the rent due
We done quintupled their score, it's like 10-2
He don't know it's drank at all, would prolly buy a fent deuce
Never ever would I fold or break but bitch we bend coupes
Only date I'll take that lil' bitch on is to the bedroom
Couple thousand blues up in my jeans, you'd think my legs bruised

(Baby, give me some cash)
(Shitty Boyz)

Chillin' on the Audemars, I'm in my rollie era
Catching plays in Cartiers, I look like Yogi Bear
Tryna show the kid her goodies, you would think the ho Ciara
Neighbor acting like she grabbing mail, stop being nosey, Sarah
That's the burbs for you
I could be a pint of wock, I wouldn't purp to you
I'm a hundred, Ben Frank, but never changing like a penny
Used to have a piggy bank, I know to save it til' it's heavy
Lil' ho got that water on her, type that's breaking through the levies
Thinking he the comp, he must be out here facing blunts of fetty
Eyes all around my head, ain't no way to slime me out
Spot looking like a Dairy Queen when it be ninety out
This bitch slamming, this bitch active
This bitch whamming, this bitch slapping
Life a gamble and it's obvious you threw a crap
They gon pick me up regardless, I ain't gotta shoot for cap
Add me up, you need the calculator app to do the math
Tryna fit in with the gang, he f*cked around and blew his stash
I just checked doggies stats and it was goose eggs
I got lows catch some more, but this some new bread
Talking 'bout your life a movie, must be bootleg
So many bitties in here going, I'ma need a few beds
Yeah, I f*cked but if I see her out, I got dementia
Cream Soda Faygo, I done turned the pop magenta
Thought he got a brick of soft, the rookie copped some Splenda
Shoutout to the fans that always try to push the Tron agenda
Shooter pulled up off the Henny, f*cked around and J.R Smith'ed it
Picking up some chicken in the A but not no J.R Crickets
You would think it's tryna score a goal the way the AR kickin'
Sent 40 shots out the drum and now it's Neymar in it
Couldn't sneak the blicky, but my lil' ho got her taser in
Tryna pull my bitch with empty pockets, B done made her cringe
Stick to uppin' guns on multiplayer, you a gamer kid
700 Horses in the foreign, call it Lazer Dim
I wouldn't even touch your bitch with a stick
Driver need to chill out speeding, it's a brick in the Lyft
Hope your kicks got some grip, you might slip in the drip
You would think granny whooped it, hit my blick with a switch
Double cup is dirty than a f*ck, you'd think my pop stank
I ain't squaring up in this Chrome Heart, no, I am not Tank
Flashy with the fraud, I'm signing fluke checks with my blanks
When it comes to playing roles with hoes, you'd think I'm Tom Hanks
Magic man, but I ain't Datsyuk
Quick to put my hitter on your head just like some Cantu
F&N perform a face buster like it's Sabu
Saved her contact as finish line, that lil' ho ran through
What's on your feet? Shit, you musta cut the grass in those
Ain't no way you got some ass in those
His pockets tapped, you would think they couldn't grab the ropes
Lil' brodie quit his job at Kroger now he baggin' dope
I hit his bitch so he saying that we opps
But he ain't on a thang, so I'm saying that we not
ShittyBoyz, Dog Shit Militia, long live $cam, you know? (Nyah)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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


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English

Talking to the mic, it's no one else to vent to
He'll go and blow it all, know when the rent due
We done quintupled their score, it's like 10-2
He don't know it's drank at all, would prolly buy a fent deuce
Never ever would I fold or break but bitch we bend coupes
Only date I'll take that lil' bitch on is to the bedroom
Couple thousand blues up in my jeans, you'd think my legs bruised

(Baby, give me some cash)
(Shitty Boyz)

Chillin' on the Audemars, I'm in my rollie era
Catching plays in Cartiers, I look like Yogi Bear
Tryna show the kid her goodies, you would think the ho Ciara
Neighbor acting like she grabbing mail, stop being nosey, Sarah
That's the burbs for you
I could be a pint of wock, I wouldn't purp to you
I'm a hundred, Ben Frank, but never changing like a penny
Used to have a piggy bank, I know to save it til' it's heavy
Lil' ho got that water on her, type that's breaking through the levies
Thinking he the comp, he must be out here facing blunts of fetty
Eyes all around my head, ain't no way to slime me out
Spot looking like a Dairy Queen when it be ninety out
This bitch slamming, this bitch active
This bitch whamming, this bitch slapping
Life a gamble and it's obvious you threw a crap
They gon pick me up regardless, I ain't gotta shoot for cap
Add me up, you need the calculator app to do the math
Tryna fit in with the gang, he f*cked around and blew his stash
I just checked doggies stats and it was goose eggs
I got lows catch some more, but this some new bread
Talking 'bout your life a movie, must be bootleg
So many bitties in here going, I'ma need a few beds
Yeah, I f*cked but if I see her out, I got dementia
Cream Soda Faygo, I done turned the pop magenta
Thought he got a brick of soft, the rookie copped some Splenda
Shoutout to the fans that always try to push the Tron agenda
Shooter pulled up off the Henny, f*cked around and J.R Smith'ed it
Picking up some chicken in the A but not no J.R Crickets
You would think it's tryna score a goal the way the AR kickin'
Sent 40 shots out the drum and now it's Neymar in it
Couldn't sneak the blicky, but my lil' ho got her taser in
Tryna pull my bitch with empty pockets, B done made her cringe
Stick to uppin' guns on multiplayer, you a gamer kid
700 Horses in the foreign, call it Lazer Dim
I wouldn't even touch your bitch with a stick
Driver need to chill out speeding, it's a brick in the Lyft
Hope your kicks got some grip, you might slip in the drip
You would think granny whooped it, hit my blick with a switch
Double cup is dirty than a f*ck, you'd think my pop stank
I ain't squaring up in this Chrome Heart, no, I am not Tank
Flashy with the fraud, I'm signing fluke checks with my blanks
When it comes to playing roles with hoes, you'd think I'm Tom Hanks
Magic man, but I ain't Datsyuk
Quick to put my hitter on your head just like some Cantu
F&N perform a face buster like it's Sabu
Saved her contact as finish line, that lil' ho ran through
What's on your feet? Shit, you musta cut the grass in those
Ain't no way you got some ass in those
His pockets tapped, you would think they couldn't grab the ropes
Lil' brodie quit his job at Kroger now he baggin' dope
I hit his bitch so he saying that we opps
But he ain't on a thang, so I'm saying that we not
ShittyBoyz, Dog Shit Militia, long live $cam, you know? (Nyah)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: James Edward Johnson IV
Copyright: Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING

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