“Coney Island Lyrics” sung by Babytron feat. Los & Nutty, Bandgang Javar, AK Bandamont represents the English Music Ensemble. The name of the song is Coney Island by Babytron.
Coney Island Lyrics
[Intro: BabyTron & Los] Ayy S^^tyBoyz, Dog S^^t Militia Long live $cams Daisy Lane Records s^^t, n^^ga You know? Yeah If it ain’t no— P^^sy-a^^ n^^gas, ain’t got no love for ’em
[Verse 1: BabyTron & Los] If it ain’t no drank in my cupholder, I’ma get some road rage Wu-Tang, I’m the method man, my killer Ghostface (Uh-huh) Tryna say my vows to the pape’, I think we soulmates (Uh-huh) If they order beef, bet we deliver it like Postmates (Yeah) Out in China, flickin’ people off with my pinky ring Come and get the cuffs up off your b^^ch, she into kinky things (F^^k that b^^ch) Ayy, tell a b^^ch to leave me be Why you rollin’ reggie? Might as well’ve grabbed some CBD
[Verse 2: WB Nutty] I been tryna keep it all rap, but I’m for the streets BabyTron, tell your white friends come and shop with me I been payin’ fourteen, but gettin’ twenty-eight apiece Make a song about some sales, n^^gas better mention me Know how I play it, I go get it, I don’t wait around (At all) I’m sendin’ ‘bows to her crib, playin’ “Pound Town” Airport, no luggage, pick up fifty thou’ Bag gone ‘fore it touch, ain’t no sittin’ ’round, n^^ga Get your rank up, get your rank up, get your rank up, get your rank up Get your rank up, get your rank up, get your rank up, get your rank up
[Verse 3: Los & BandGang Javar] Yeah, ayy N^^ga, get your rank up, switch states, then change up I got married to that bag, no, we can’t break up They say two hundred thou’ cash, I say, “That s^^t ain’t enough” You would think I signed to Bando ’cause I got dog s^^t straight from the lab I let my mans use my plug and ain’t ask for no money back N^^gas braggin’ ’bout a dime, the type of s^^t that make me laugh Tell a b^^ch I’m pressed for time, tryna cut a brick in half I’m talkin’ thousand times two-fifty, n^^gas stuck on Instagram You would think I signed to Bando ’cause I got dog s^^t straight from the lab (Straight from the lab, p^^sy a^^, uh-huh) No cap (Signed to Bando ’cause I got dog s^^t straight from the lab) BandGang Yeah P^^sy-a^^ n^^gas, ain’t got no love for ’em, yeah
[Verse 4: BandGang Javar] I come from a long line of real n^^gas Pops had a long line of fiends, he was drug dealin’ It’s only right I copped the foreign off dealin’ Old heads peekin’ out they blinds like, “Paris’ son trippin'” Free my n^^ga Poody, feds gave him ten for sellin’ **** But he up two million cash, if I was him, I wouldn’t stress Seen unc’ with so many babies, I should call CPS If you need one, I’ll throw my tax on it, shoot a text I treat my b^^ch so good, God blessed me with another one They know they ain’t gotta pay no bills if I cum in ’em You know them ‘bows your favorite uncle sell? I be frontin ’em And he a ham, pay fifty-five for every one of ’em
[Verse 5: AK Bandamont] These ’bout twenty Glocks, got twenty fifty-round drums for every one of them I got a hundred thots, I’ll call a b^^ch when I need her, I’m puttin’ drugs in them They caught him at the club, they sent a bunch at him, now it’s gettin’ ugly B^^ch, I’m with a lot of apes like jungle gyms, we all gettin’ money (Skrrt) And b^^ch, I slap onions, no hat, the Drac’ crack muffin Every month, I bet I crack a hundred, b^^ch, I’m Pac without the tatted stomach I forgot his name, they whacked buddy, dope cases came from crack money Like Deezy, I get fast money, one call, I got a bag comin’ This one n^^ga got a bag on him, he dead, they on your a^^, youngin I know you heard about your last cousin, he trap, we get him whacked hustlin’ This b^^ch just want her back busted, she call and she don’t ask nothin’ A dog before, I had nothin’, do fraud and got a trap jumpin’
[Verse 6: GlockBoyz TeeJaee] Back to the hood, we pull up tinted-out, they know it’s me Them extras hangin’ out the clip, b^^ch, I’m like thirty deep Ain’t tryna beef over the ‘net, just meet me in the streets I’ll up the Glock and b^^g this b^^ch just like a Jose beat and throw my piece Yeah, two phones, they both ringin’, this that money callin’ My dog playin’ every game, his nickname Spalding You out here losin’ every day, you need to change your partners This b^^ch cute and she’ll shoot, she like Candace Parker N^^ga, I still be in the trenches, I got bros who think I made it (They think I made it) Really active, I still’ll slide like I ain’t famous (Like I ain’t famous) Speak on me, my dog gon’ pull up, tap your head, I ain’t gotta pay him (Ain’t gotta pay him nothin’) Come watch me play, I hoop like Kobe, I’m the greatest, n^^ga
[Verse 7: KrispyLife Kidd] You a b^^ch, I’m judgin’ by your Rollie size (36) Pop, pop to your brain, yeah, it’s Coney time Flint n^^ga, stuffin’ hoes with packs stromboli-sized I’m rich, any n^^ga on this song could call to hold a dime (I got you) Gucci windbreaker, this b^^ch’ll keep me warm as hell ‘Specially when I’m trappin’ fifty sale after fifty sale I gotta pause and get some fresh air, I can’t do the smell You a ho, they pull you out the car, you tell before you hit the jail (Rat) Huh, Skydweller got my wrist chunky The bezel got baguettes in it, that’s why you see my wrist bumpy (Bling) I’m in the club with an attitude with a bottle tryna fifth somethin’ I’m really fake drunk, I’m just on tip, I ain’t sip nothin’
[Verse 8: Nuk] Five hundred in this cup, n^^ga, you can’t get a sip of s^^t Brodie wanna rob him, told him, “Clean that boy like Mister Pip” Off dog food, made Dallas money, d^^n near think I’m Dennis Smith This s^^t rappers’ Coney Island, tell my robbers get his kit I see n^^gas sweet as hell, I call my wolves, they partaking All my boy sales, I got more bags in than Marc Jacobs Bro a soul taker, he the one that’s gon’ go chase the dead I just got another brick like “Pound Town,” no S^^y Red The feds hit the crib for a second time, ain’t found nothin’ When I want a brick, I call a plug and press the pound button Like, order here, them b^^ches comin’ off the pier Last n^^ga I knew with the bricks, they gave him forty years
[Outro: BabyTron] Pull up to the spot, we servin’ everything like Coney Island I just poured a trey, it made me go to sleep, I’m Obie Trice-ing Brodie snatched an opp watch, he gotta get his Rollie tightened Mental of a mamba, I ain’t snake, I think like Kobe Bryant
Video Song
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