Lyrics
BabyTron – Top 2 Not 2 Lyrics
BabyTron – Top 2 Not 2 Lyrics
Top 2 Not 2 Lyrics By BabyTron
[Intro]
(Damn, JakeSand)
Yeah
[Chorus]
I see a risk? I take it
I take a sip, I’m dranking (I take it)
Bitch, I’m flier than a Martian, it’s only right I play the spaceship
[Verse 1]
Summertime I’m in the Nike mask ‘cause, bitch, I’m famous
Roll it up then pour it up, I’m selfish, shit, I’m facing
You can’t keep it a hunnid? Bye-bye ‘cause, shit, I’m Franklin
Million dollar dinner plate on the table, the shit I’m craving
Shit, these bullets hot, he cooked with Cajun
Off a quarter of the Fortune Cookie, in here looking Asian
You was open, let him in yo head thinking you shouldn’t take it
That shot? You could’ve made it
[Chorus]
I see a risk and take it
I take a sip, I’m dranking
(I see a risk and take it
I take a sip, I’m dranking)
Bitch, I’m flier than a Martian, it’s only right I play the spaceship
(Bitch, I’m flier than a Martian, it’s only right I play the spaceship)
[Verse 2]
Buying Number (N)ine when I’m spraying fragrance
I know skimmers, I know scammers hacking databases
If he don’t speak no Guapanese then that shit ain’t my language
Heard you day by daying, heard you play by playing
Not me
[Verse 3]
Bitch, I been that guy
You got a couple laps to run, I’m at the finish line
Said that money grow on trees? You seen a pig that fly?
I was on that double up shit, now I triple mine’s
Bitch, I’m sipping on a Wock’ pop in a droptop
Grab the Striker from the chop shop, rock the opps’ block
Was at the bottom, it was ha-ha, we on top now
Line wrapped around the block, I dropped it in a Crockpot
Bitch, I Glock tote and I crack rock
Pull up like the SWAT, not SoFaygo, we not gon’ knock-knock
Mini Draco give him a halo or make him Hopscotch
I used to be up in the crowd, I’m who they watch now
Look at my watch now
If I die by the gun then I went out like Tony
Said he need them in three? Tell him, “Pull up by Coney”
Every day, everything, my whole life trophies
It ain’t ‘018, we don’t go and ride stollies
[Verse 4]
Vanilla buffs, chocolate tint like a sundae
Lava underneath my fucking feet, where’s the runway?
Bible on the dash of the ‘Hawk, ready for gunplay
Looking back at time like I knew I’d do it someday
Thinking ‘bout the grind like I knew I’d do it some way
What’s yo iOS? Yo life need a update
I was pulling hair to stack a ten, now that shit chump change
Boss meeting, pull up a chair if you got something to say
I ain’t top ten, I ain’t top five
I ain’t top three but, bitch, I’m top two
And I am not two
Bitch, you know the vibes
Wyoming king, push a button just to close the blinds
I can clap and turn the lights off
All this cheese, I think I’m finna get the mice caught
Ten assists to the game, I’m getting dimes off
Cuddy play a dirty game like fuck what the fines cost
Tryna clean it up, the spot smell like Pine-Sol
Spot a opp and let it go, like some Lysol
Aventadoring in the ‘Ghini when I drive off
Push up out me out in traffic? That’s a life lost
We out the window with it
If Tron stepping out, just know them killers with them
He ain’t gang? We can’t hang, I ain’t chilling with him
