Bad Time Boy lyrics

[Intro: Prof]
Yeah
It's too good
It's too good
I don't like that
Don't smile at me like that
I don't like that

[Chorus: Prof]
I'm a bad time boy, ayy
I be doin' better than I should
I should probably shoot me in the foot
I feel bad about when feelin' good
Bad time boy, ayy
If I could, I'd bring around the rain
Get uncomfortable into your face
I could give a sh*t 'bout what you—

[Verse 1: Prof]
Uh, it's too clean in this b*tch
I need to f*ck up the function
Ruin some discussions, rough up your cousin
Throw 'round some mustard, b*tch can't be trusted
Ick, I don't like it
I need everything f*cked up how I like it
Very hard to underestimate y'all biters
I'ma do what I can to get uninvited
Ick, I don't like it
And I'm happy that you reppin' a ton, slept with your gun
But I can smell your breath through your gum
I know thе flexin' is fun, the effort is somеthin'
But I could effortlessly school your ass 'bout eleven to one
Ick, I don't like you
One of these days, I'ma retire on a goddamn comet
All this access to me make me want to vomit
I'm not reading one more comment, b*tch!
[Chorus: Prof]
I'm a bad time boy, ayy
I be doin' better than I should
I should probably shoot me in the foot
I feel bad about when feelin' good
Bad time boy, ayy
If I could, I'd bring around the rain
Get uncomfortable into your face
I could give a sh*t 'bout what you—

[Post-Chorus: Prof]
Bust it wide open
Bring it on back, then take it on down
Open up a bag, flip it inside out
Give me all the money, and don't make a sound (Hi-ya!)
Bust it wide open
Bring it on back, then take it on down
Open up a bag, flip it inside out
Give me all the money, and don't make a sound (Hi-ya!)

[Verse 2: Zombie Juice]
Say when, brought the Glock in the party
I mastered like Chainsaw Charlie, the frames Carti'
She Dominican like Cardi with a body
Blow money up like the Saudi
Got f*cked up and crashed the Maserati
Half as good, but I can't be your papi
Can be your pimp knockin', [?] to it, lame block
Imagine me listening to y'all haters
Y'all not loyal to the gang, and loyal to my gang
[Verse 3: Meechy Darko]
Pounds, ounces, kilos, contraband
My gun go blast
Blood on my money, blood on my hands
Give me the loot, or give me a reason to shoot
If she's thick and cute, I'ma turn that ass to a mule
Put drugs in her caboose
Hope she make it over the border before she poop
Street grammar got this b*tch ghetto gaggin' 'til she puke in the coupe, oops
We done caught another body, another homi' made the news
Who is you?

[Chorus: Prof]
I'm a bad time boy, ayy
I be doin' better than I should
I should probably shoot me in the foot
I feel bad about when feelin' good
Bad time boy, ayy
If I could, I'd bring around the rain
Get uncomfortable into your face
I could give a sh*t 'bout what you—

[Post-Chorus: Prof]
Bust it wide open
Bring it on back, then take it on down
Open up a bag, flip it inside out
Give me all the money, and don't make a sound (Hi-ya!)
Bust it wide open
Bring it on back, then take it on down
Open up a bag, flip it inside out
Give me all the money, and don't make a sound (Hi-ya!)