Well Rounded

X pt2.m4a

Lyrics:

Ain't no time for these niggas (I ain't got no time for these niggas)
I ain't got no time for these niggas, yeah

Got no time for these niggas
You playing with my dawg, why you lie to these niggas? (Lie)
You missing all my calls see you riding with niggas (Woo)
You playing with my money, know I did a lot to get it
You know that you my dawg, wouldn't lie to you nigga (My dawg)
I'm picking up your calls, finna ride by you nigga (Ride)
You'll always be my brother I would die for you nigga (Die)
We come from different mothers, but I'm tied to you nigga

You always saying keep my head up when the pain came through (Yeahh)
We was broke on the streets now the gang came through (Came through)
If I make it out first, you gone make it out too
Got a couple hundred plaques, finna top the gang too (Plaques)
We some bad young niggas, swerve switching lanes too (Whew)
Know the bag finna hit it, now we gonna rain through
Yeah now all my niggas up, drip we got chains too
We still the same young niggas, yeah it never change you
If I got then you got it (Then you got it)
Since kids we were locked in (We were locked in)
They keep doing all that talking (Let that nigga talk)
They finna call when we got it (You know we finna get it)
They keep looking at our pockets, we get it done (Pockets, done)
When we was broke we would eat the same crumbs (Same crumbs)
You know I'd never go, make it with my day ones
We turn into a wave, yeah they getting rained on (Yeah, woah)
Count that cash on the way

Got no time for these niggas
You playing with my dawg, why you lie to these niggas? (Lie)
You missing all my calls see you riding with niggas (Woo)
You playing with my money, know I did a lot to get it
You know that you my dawg, wouldn't lie to you nigga (My dawg)
I'm picking up your calls, finna ride by you nigga (Ride)
You'll always be my brother I would die for you nigga (Die)
We come from different mothers, but I'm tied to you nigga

(You my brother, I would ride by you nigga)
(You my dawg, I would ride by you nigga)

Brothers

Lyrics:

Gang, gang
Yeah, my nigga Taz (My nigga Taz)
Play with us we gone leave you in the past (In the past)
Yeah sitting back in my chair and count my racks nigga (Count my racks nigga)

Yeah sitting up at that top you know we top notch (We on top)
Yeah with my niggas in the field we playing hop scotch (Yeah)
Yeah the whole team been getting guap while we dodge cops (Yeah, what the fuck)
Ice in my wrist, neck froze like we punch clocks (Brr)
Yeah caught you lacking we don’t talk we just punch opps
Yeah we eating good everyday like out that lunch box (Damn)
Glock to his head, hit him down now his heart stop (Stop)
Finna curb a nigga, swerve back and pull up in my park spot (Park spot)
Yeah you know your hoe for the streets and she got mileage (She a bop)
Yeah we really out here trapping in the streets and they gone top file it 
My nigga hit your head straight dog nigga Rottweiling 
Yeah that nigga tryna compete with the gang we gone top notch it (Damn)

Yeah fighting them demons cause' they messing with my head nigga (With my head)
Yeah tote glocks pull up in your hood we leave you dead in it (Leave you dead)
Yeah, ain’t no talk we just up, let it spread nigga (Boah, boah, boah)
Yeah, got all this pain I been sipping on this med nigga (On this med)
Yeah, we don’t play, we get active till he dead nigga (What the fuck)
Yeah, I got a chop, leave a opp where he bled nigga
Yeah, I’m chasing guap I ain’t worried ab what he said nigga (Hell naw)
Write that nigga off like a book with my lead nigga (In my book)
Know I’m the king of the streets and they can’t check me (They can't check)
Yeah, we hit your top take your chain and your neck piece (Hit your top)
Yeah, bust shots at your gang, hit your bestie (Yeah hit your boy)
Yeah, all these hoes at my show rocking out we at Coachella (Damn, what the fuck)
Yeah too much guap up in my pockets need a duffle (Yeah, I got too much guap)
That nigga barking like a dog, finna give that boy a muzzle (Give that boy a muzzle)
Going 160 on the road, yeah I need to buckle (Swerve in that coup)
Yeah we caught you by surprise now we coming out that tunnel (On gang)

Yeah sitting up at that top you know we top notch (We on top)
Yeah with my niggas in the field we playing hop scotch (Yeah)
Yeah the whole team been getting guap while we dodge cops (Yeah what the fuck)
Ice in my wrist, neck froze like we punch clocks (Brr)
Yeah caught you lacking we don’t talk we just punch opps
Yeah we eating good everyday like out that lunch box (Damn)
Glock to his head hit him down now his heart stop (Stop)
Finna curb a nigga, swerve back and pull up in my park spot (Park spot)
Yeah you know your hoe for the streets and she got mileage (She a bop)
Yeah we really out here trapping in the streets and they gone top file it 
My nigga hit your head straight dog, nigga Rottweiling 
Yeah that nigga tryna compete with the gang we gone top notch it (Damn)

Top Notch

Loose Leaf ft. whiterosemoxie

IG: @BABIIMOEOFFICIAL

Lyrics: 
I already know this bitch a duck
Soon as I walk in the store, she finna open up
I ain’t got time to argue with my opps, them niggas broke as fuck
20 deep, I had a 30 in a Glock and we was posted up

Really the best when it come down to taking shots
’Cause I ain’t choking up
I dropped a addy in my pop ’cause I ain’t woke enough
I had a bitch, I found out she a bop and now we broken up

I might just put a switchy on my brother Glock
’Cause now he old enough
In 2021, went through a lot but I’m still holding up
Them honey buns and peanut butter got me strong as fuck

Was mad as hell up in that country jail
That shit felt long as fuck
This nigga sad as hell, he told his bitch about me
Now she wanna f***

This switch fast as hell
I don’t know why the fuck this nigga trying to duck
I love the hoes that shake ass and ain’t got no butt
This foreign shit drive fast but ain’t got no trunk

The opps block, I ride past it, they not gone bump
Got guap on me, if I flash it, I’m not gone stunt
We got pape, we be fucking niggas’ hoes and we flame shit
Bitch, you straight, I can’t lie, you ain’t got nothing on my main bitch

Brand new drac, I just gave it to my bitch, she on some gang shit
I ain’t fake, you just mad ’cause I be staying in my lane, bitch
You think I’m cheating, but whole time I’m on the game, btc
I ain’t repeating nothing, I ain’t the type that’s gone explain shit

He wanna beat his bitch, she getting drunk at night and in the main pic
In the bikini bottom, I’ll be on top ’cause I’m the fish
This nigga telling and he supposed to be my man’s, he in some lame shit
I don’t know why you pulling down your pants, I want some brain, bitch

I really wanna fuck your friend
I don’t know why the fuck you came, bitch
This nigga used to have two bands
I don’t know how the fuck you fake rich

Like how the fuck you fake rich
Get your broke ass on, nigga
Take your broke ass home, nigga
Bitch, bitch, bitch

“Fake Rich” by Babii Moe is a high-energy anthem straight outta the Flint scene, packed with punchy bars, slick talk, and a bouncy beat that hits from the jump. With its fun, fast-paced flow and trendy one-liners, Babii Moe delivers a playful flex on the culture of fake luxury — calling out the cap while still having a blast. It’s a catchy, head-nodding track made for turning up, sliding in reels, or just stunting with your crew. Perfect for fans of that raw Midwest bounce with a comedic edge.

Babii Moe - Fake Rich (prod. okweapons)

Head Tap (prod. K13)

Real Flex

Talk Bout it

Voicemail (feat. Rod Wave)

Typa N!gga

Simon Says

Talk to me

Hit N Run

Another One

https://www.youtube.com/@tclctv7227

https://www.instagram.com/tclc_tv?igsh=NHZkaW80a2M0dXV2&utm_source=qr

Talk Bout it

TCLC

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