Babysitter

[Intro]
([Hombre?] made the beat, damn it)

[Chorus]
Tryna make the Forbes list, I need about eight figures
Put her on the whore list, 'cause I ain't finna play wit' her
I'ma keep sippin', but they sayin' I'm gettin' sicker
All of these baby bottles, you would think I'm a baby sitter

[Verse 1]
I'm tryna make the Forbes list, need about a hundred large
Backyard like a dealership, I need a hundred cars
Rap star, blowin' up, brighter than a hundred stars
You couldn't beat me if you re-tried and had a hundred starts
You can't fuck with me, even if you had a runnin' start
Made yo' bitch a fiend, pick her up , she off a hundred bars
I could get whatever for my dawg, he be punchin' cars
You could put whatever in yo' blunt, it don't fuck wit' ours
You can't put no trust up in yo' bitch 'cause they'll backstab
That bitch fell asleep, hopped in two hits like it was jab-jab
Soldiers with me steppin', I ain't never took no ASVAB
We'll spin your block and leave it lookin' like it's Baghdad
Yeah, I'm talkin' shit but you don't hear it, though
Too high, I just poured some Wocky in my cereal
A hundred songs, I ain't started this music 'til a year ago
Fucked a British bitch and then she left, told her cherrio
Masked up, and I'm swingin' sticks, Rey Mysterio
I'm turnt up, and you should hear me bumpin' through your stereo
I was slumpin' in that Tesla, I ain't even had to steer it, though
You say you livin' solid, y'ain't even got the spirit, though

[Chorus]
Tryna make the Forbes list, I need about eight figures
Put her on the whore list, 'cause I ain't finna play wit' her
I'ma keep sippin', but they sayin' I'm gettin' sicker
All of these baby bottles, you would think I'm a baby sitter
Tryna make the Forbes list, I need about eight figures
Put her on the whore list, 'cause I ain't finna play wit' her
I'ma keep sippin', but they sayin' I'm gettin' sicker
All of these baby bottles, you would think I'm a baby sitter

[Verse 2]
Yeah, all these damn bottles, you would think I was a bartender
If she don't got no ass, I'm not hoppin' in the car wit' her
I put her on the bench, I'm not even finna start wit' her
You could take her back, y'ain't eatin', you could starve wit' her
You could come and pick yo' bitch up then you could have her back
You can go and put yo' shot up, but I'm glassin' that
Boy, your songs weak, bitches not shakin' no ass to that
If they double teamin', best believe it that I'm passin' that, damn
I'm runnin' outta breath, that's a asthma attack
Found out buddy told somethin', I'm smakin' a rat
I don't feel safe and I get anxious, I'm packin' the gat
Both pockets filled up wit' Wills, I'm pattin' the stack
Yeah, both pockets filled up wit' Franks, that's the blue bills
If both of y'all is tryna snatch this chain, I'm gettin' two kills
I don't got pills, he sellin' pink and doin' blue dills
You try to play me, leave you swimmin' with the blue gills

[Chorus]
Tryna make the Forbes list, I need about eight figures
Put her on the whore list, 'cause I ain't finna play wit' her
I'ma keep sippin', but they say that I'm gettin' sicker
All of these baby bottles, you would think I'm a baby sitter