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letra de wake tf up - babytron

[intro]
(ayo, mark a)
pull up to yo crib masked up, better get— okay
f-ck you watching?

[verse 1]
pull up to your crib masked up, it’ll get spooky
still’ll go and eat some ramen noodles, i ain’t get bougie
nice guy but playing with my pape’ and i’ma get moody
high as h-ll dripping, kicks louis, finna twist dookies
[chorus]
oh, you watching, huh?
mister think you tough, oh, you plotting, huh?
you the type to post guns but never really shot ’em, huh?
you gon’ get dropped
this is not a tris pop, b-tch, i only sip wock’
got a bag on me, no trick or treat
hunnid thousand on the road when the whip hit the street
dawg got a hit pint of red, think he sipping pink
think that you up? that’s a dream, boy, you still asleep
wake yo ass up

[verse 2]
ride cullinan like f-ck a lamb’ truck
quagy-agy got me stuck, i can’t stand up
i’ll run it up sitting down
always feel like somebody’s watching, it’s a bl!ck around
chilling wide awakе for the pape’
can’t fall asleep, i ain’t evеn blinking
ride around, play after play
real flight catcher, next week you might see me in phoenix
watch presidential
gate around the crib, it is not residential
i don’t need the tech but the crocs are essential
v10 roaring, i am not in a rental
take that cap off, i don’t talk to purpers
one thing you can’t do is make a boss a worker
i don’t do the cookie, last time was off the burners
think he tough on the net, knock him off the server
think he tough, at the most he a cyberbully
i just spent twelve k on designer hoodies
only brought ten bags? sh-t, you fired, rookie
(sh-t, you gotta get a new job)
up now, f-ck next, sh-t, who not?
big hammer, i ain’t get it out a toolbox
sh-t, d-mn, hole in his top like a juice box
brodie seen a opp and got to blowing like his food hot
sh-t, he live the thug life like he 2pac
wanna know unc’? he like ruckus off of boondocks
got the juice but i ain’t falling off the rooftop
used to have a pocket full of lint, now it’s blue guap (yeah, yeah)
[chorus]
oh, you watching, huh?
mister think you tough, oh, you plotting, huh?
you the type to post guns but never really shot ’em, huh?
you gon’ get dropped
this is not a tris pop, b-tch, i only sip wock’
got a bag on me, no trick or treat
hunnid thousand on the road when the whip hit the street
dawg got a hit pint of red, think he sipping pink
think that you up? that’s a dream, boy, you still asleep
wake yo ass up

- babytron

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