“Baby Mama Wont Let Me See My Son Lyrics” sung by Foogiano represents the English Music Ensemble. The name of the song is Molly (Baby Mama).
Baby Mama Wont Let Me See My Son Lyrics
[Intro]
Yeah, n (Huh? Mob?)
(33, that bit’ boomin’)
2020, boy (Uh)
Y’all done f up now, n (It’s bsh^t)
Huh? Yeah (Authentic or nothin’)
[Chorus]
Baby mama ain’t s (Nah)
She won’t let me see my son (Ho)
But you f with ’em, I’ma pop my gun
p, ain’t no one-on-one (Rah)
n , we come from the slums (Mob)
30 round, 50 round, 100 rounds
Yeah, p boy them drums (Drums)
Have you prayin’ like a nun (Huh?)
I ain’t never been a actor (Huh?)
Patrick n with that cappin’ s
We gon’ stomp his a just like a Kappa (Uh)
The mayor but she call me master (Uh)
Got her to the spot, gave that b a Perc’
Now she geekin’ like a banshee (Geek)
She couldn’t even understand me (Ah)
When I told her drop her p
[Verse 1]
448, I get ’em gone (Ah)
Boy, this a hunned million dolla’ phone (Uh)
They hit my jack, they say they need the strong
Boy, you look broke as hell, you need a loan?
My n , I’m nice, so you can have a loan (Ah)
Yo’ b told me, “That was nice”, and then we boned (Uh)
No time to cuff a n, know I’m gone
Trap on the defense, boy, I’m in the zone
Ain’t gotta say it, you know how I’m comin’ (Uh)
Big nuts they hangin’ like a monkey
Say he got 50 bags down in the dungeon
Boy, I hear take some and he say he bummin’
Say he gon’ shoot, well b what it do? (Ah)
I think he bluffin’, n, where the proof?
Told you we comin’ and we want the loot
Try me, boy, I’ma leave you with no roof
I got that drank, b , I got that juice
No, I ain’t Bishop, but I keep the tool
Lil’ b, it’s Foo, but try me like a fool
I promise ya you won’t make another move
I’m in my groove, yeah, n, I’m back
Boy, I heard you been cuffin’ on that net
That b, she lick me down until my sack
You got a new name, boy, we call you Pat
He want the smoke, well b what it is?
You know I’m slimy, n, like a eel
Know I’ll pop a n like a pill
Know I be drankin’ mud straight out the seal
Yeah, it’s the mayor and I’m with the Mob (Mob)
Yeah, we be trappin’, b, we don’t do fraud
My killers, they young and layin’ in ya yard, b, ah
[Chorus]
Baby mama ain’t s(Nah)
She won’t let me see my son (Ho)
But you f with ’em, I’ma pop my gun
p, ain’t no one-on-one (Rah)
n, we come from the slums (Mob)
30 round, 50 round, 100 rounds
Yeah, p boy them drums (Drums)
Have you prayin’ like a nun (Huh?)
I ain’t never been a actor (Huh?)
Patrick n with that cappin’ s
We gon’ stomp his a just like a Kappa (Uh)
The mayor but she call me master (Uh)
Got her to the spot, gave that b a Perc’
Now she geekin’ like a banshee (Geek)
She couldn’t even understand me (Ah)
When I told her drop her pan
[Verse 2]
I pop a Perc’, she know what it is (Ah)
b, ain’t no talkin’, I ain’t Dr. Phil (Who)
Pockets, they fat as hell like Uncle Phil
Just like a safety, b , I’m in the field
Here come the mayor, b, this ain’t a drill
Say that he lookin’ for me, he a meal
b, if you shoot you better shoot to kill
I’ll call the demon, he won’t let you live
Slim told me “Foo, my n, let him live”
Swear I can’t let him live, I want them M’s
Know when I’m comin’, boy, I come to kill
I f yo’ b because she like my libs
I got ’em msh^t, ’cause I’m in my bag
Bag boy, my pockets heavy, gotta sag
And I got Glocks that come with extra mags
Sauce it be drippin’, yeah, that s be ssh^t
He want the smoke, boy, I’ll bring a cloud
b, ain’t no boxin’, but I’m bringin’ rounds
I’m with the mob, that n won’t be found
I promise you we gon’ come and shut it down
I hit yo’ b, and I’m on her lips
Ask ’em, I get to work and make it flip
I got the power, I can get you dipped
Roll up that cookie, n, chocolate chip
He want that pressure, well b make a move
You tryin’ Foo? Well, n, you the fool
I’ll have them gutta babies on ya roof
Yo’ a gon’ disappear, lil’ n, poof
Yeah, b, I’m back, and I’m here to say
Even yo’ b gon’ tell you that I’m great
So when you see me, n, fix ya face
Yeah, it’s the mayor, b, I won the race
sh^t
[Chorus]
Baby mama ain’t s(Nah)
She won’t let me see my son (Ho)
But you f with ’em, I’ma pop my gun
p , ain’t no one-on-one (Rah)
n, we come from the slums (Mob)
30 round, 50 round, 100 rounds
Yeah, p boy them drums (Drums)
Have you prayin’ like a nun (Huh?)
I ain’t never been a actor (Huh?)
Patrick n with that cappin’ s
We gon’ stomp his a just like a Kappa (Uh)
The mayor but she call me master (Uh)
Got her to the spot, gave that ba Perc’
Now she geekin’ like a banshee (Geek)
She couldn’t even understand me (Ah)
When I told her drop her p
[Outro]
This is Authentic, n
