Midwxst – 223’s Lyrics ft Babytron

Midwxst - 223’s Lyrics ft Babytron
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New music alert from Midwxst – 223’s audio, mp3 lyrics

Talented Artist midwxst drop a new impressive uncensored music titled “223’s” featuring BabyTron.

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Midwxst – 223’s Lyrics

Do you hear that? (aldn)That’s, that’s what real niggas sound like
Yeah, I got him mad, look at his face, he look like Darth MaulRingin’ up my brothers, I’m the one that made them shots callGettin’ paper, it stay in my hands, I feel like St. PaulSaid he wouldn’t tell and then he did, and that’s his damn fault
My money on Eiffel Tower, bitch, you know it stand tallBeen off of my phone, get in that bag, bitch, I don’t need callsIf I ain’t make like $5K in a day, bitch, I get withdrawalsNiggas tried to hold me down, well, now they got me pissed off
Know some brothers that do drills and they don’t do constructionI know some brothers with them sticks, and thеy don’t play percussionMy brodie, shh, he keep that ‘K and it might gеt to bustin’You fuck with gang, I hope you know you suffer repercussions
My pens and words are fucking weapons of that mass destructionRun in that show and made it jump, them bitches double-dutchin’My brodie really keep that ‘K and he not even RussianI’m in his city tryna slide but I know that he duckin’
Man, got me pissed offBro hand up on the trigger, ready right to let that bitch offWord to my boy Chris, that chopper made him dance like TikTokCasio all up on my wrist, might go bust down the G-Shock
Brodie keep that .19 on, he ride ’round with that G-lockWhat they say? They spot ’em, then they got ’em, made him beatboxLatina girls in my DM’s, got me a mamacitaIf you had the life I’m livin’, this shit loco, momma mia, ooh
Talk about my brothers and my family, we shoot from the paintHooded up, black fit on my body like Kevin DurantI ain’t perfect, I done did some shit, bitch, I am not a SaintLost some brothers on the fuckin’ way and that shit brought me pain
Bail out any of my brothers or the fucking gangSteppin’ on me, I know no niggas gon’ tuck the chainThe hardest that’s comin out of Indi’, you gon’ know the nameTold brodie, “Kick the cup, ” but he can’t stop sippin’ up on the drank
Hands on, I’m the type to pick the soccer ball upHop out and walk ’em down, we finna pop ’em all up (brrt)Sick, he think he shinin’, he done went and copped some Palm Buffs (bitch)Face card scorchin’, I don’t really shop at malls much (woo)
Ha-ha, look, hot as fuck like I’m stuck in the microwave (damn)Finna maximize the hit with this micro K (brrt)Tryna hit the top, you gon’ have to fight your way (where?)Tie him up and leave his body, shit, the psycho way
Tryna check this profile credit, what GEICO say? (What?)You ain’t tough, snatch your wood, then light your wayLil’ pups aim for your ankles, we gon’ bite your faceYeah, with these .223s (brrt)
Had the Vs back to back, you know these ain’t no JubileesTryna race with Mr. Vroom-And-Zoom, I guess that you will seeThat you can’t catch upYou sippin’ Jabba the Hutt, I got a red cup, no cap
Yeah, I got him mad, look at his face, he look like Darth MaulRingin’ up my brothers, I’m the one that made them shots callGettin’ paper, it stay in my hands, I feel like St. PaulSaid he wouldn’t tell and then he did, and that’s his damn fault