Letra de ' Hoodrat (Who this?) (DJ Ess Mix) ' de BabyTron

New crib, who this? New whip, who this?
New crib, who this? New whip, who this?
New crib, who this? New whip, who this?
New blick, who this? New switch, who this?
You need a new bitch, you need a new everything
You need a new kitty, at least get some new kicks
You need to beat your hoe ass, she sendin' nude pics
R-H-U-D-E, I'm on my rude tip

Ayy, how the fuck I end up in the hood?

How the fuck I end up in the 'burbs with a hoodrat?
Ricky Owens with the zippers
Bitch, I'm in my bookbag, come and get schooled
Bitch, take your spend-the-night bag back in the crib
I was out the way, but now I'm back up on the grid

Cuddy in the kitchen with a slab, but not no ribs
Might as well sit down 'cause when they stand, it's not on biz

Is you scared of money?
Play with mines, I'm on your ass just like a pair of undies
We'll make it rain when the game ends, storm the field
Unky prayin' that he beats the case and dodge a court appeal

You ain't got a chance to hit my bitch, she too expensive
In here wrestlin' with these pants, you tryna battle through depression
You gotta buy the sauce, do this look like a Free Methodist?
Cut a brick and pull a baby out, I just C-sectioned it
Talk so much shit, talk so much shit
Talk so much shit, I got reminders set to eat peppermints

I done slayed hoes from Telegraph to East Jefferson
Can you beat Militia, pussy? Can you eat beverages?
If you want a job, the requirement's three references
Tryna make it last forever but ain't Keith Sweatin' it
Ain't no plays on your phone like why you keep checkin' it?
Pull up in that white TRX like, Meet Pegasus

I gotta jump like I'm tryna dunk to get into the truck
You done got drunk and turned into a munch, you a punk
You a crumb, you a chump, you a bum, you a flunk
Got these lil' hoes suckin', same ones you would hump

Catch him out in traffic, leave him honkin' with his fo-
Catch him out in traffic, leave him honkin' with his fo-
Catch him out in traffic, leave him honkin' with his forehead
You won't hear me, you won't hear me talkin' like my phone dead
We'll paint they block like that bitch on an easel
Tryna get these oranges off, but all the junkies on the needles
I done made over a hundred motion pics, Walt Disney
Yeah, I got some dogs with me, but I ain't gon' toss Frisbees

Finna run it up, it ain't no walk in me
Teeth marks on my goosebumps, the chains frostbit me

Everybody talkin' down like I won't be done bought Ypsi
The whole 48197, 48198
Slide through, just a call, 1-481-9-DRAC
Oh, you want the BIN? Well, it's 54819-, wait

I can't give it to you
I gotta face all this drank, I can't sip it with you
Ain't no holdin' hands, shit, it's life, I can't live it with you
If you gang, if you slime, I'ma split it with you
I'ma go and get it with you

I'm livin' life, but I'm prepared for death
She gon' blow me, I'ma play her like a clarinet
She just spun you, talkin' 'bout her hair a mess
Best thing I did was turn my hustle up, start carin' less

New crib, who this? New whip, who this?
New blick, who this? New switch, who this?
You need a new bitch, you need a new everything
You need a new kitty, at least get some new kicks
You need to beat your hoe ass, she sendin' nude pics
R-H-U-D-E, I'm on my rude tip

I'm the reason Ruth Chris out of toothpicks
I'm the reason Somerset out of new drip
You gon' live the same old life 'til you take new risks
Everybody turned they water dirty, this the new Flint
Evian off a V-cut, that's the blueprint
Kevion, B&C, Benny, that's a few sticks
My hoe Lavagirl, I'm Sharkboy in these blue tints
FakeWatchBuster's on the way, he got a fluke wrist
Had to shoot the Banshee through my coat, that's why the Goose ripped
How the fuck I'm movin' too slow off of two sips?
I don't sell work, but my left wrist, that's two bricks
Someone find my Lincoln jersey, I'm back on my hoop shit (phew)

I'm tryna score buckets
I can have a milli' Midichlorians, won't force nothin'
If you ain't start strong, you gotta finish double hard
I done got mines broke, I done tore a couple hearts
Shit, it's all fun and games 'til you see that muzzle spark
Boy, I'm finna push the pedal like here come that rumble part (vroom)
Hundred turkey bags, they smellin' like some underarms
Up the glitchy, I ain't shy, I am not the thunder guard
Man, the spring, fall, winter, and summer ours
Flyin' off an eight of Quagen, damn near playin' bumper cars
ShittyBoyz, Dog Shit Militia, long live $cam, you know