Lyrics:

I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
Got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my what
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
Got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my what
Remember that gooey gooey
You took and said ooo-eee ooo-eee
I need two or two-eee of these
For my baby boo-eee ooo-eee
Talking like boobies
Now you got a nice pair like some boobies
And you high off that doobie doobie
With your Mystery Machine (Scooby)
Feeling bad? Well you should be
Bp don't make nothing cheapie
Hanging with them creepy creepies
I sitting in back with pps
Lookin holy holy
While looking through them holy holies
Holy guacamole
You got that gooey now you a phony
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
Got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my what
Outside of the club
And I'm drip-drip-dripping sugar sweet
Cinnamon on skin with the hooligans
Y'all came to rock, and we came to ah!
Put a sting in her lips
For the eye
Go on, take a sip
Got milk in her thighs
On sunny days
From green tube and my high prices for the dream-dream
Not cause I mean it means a thing to take from me
Unless it's just some dmt
That's all up in my energy
Yup yup, go on place that bet
If you wanna come test in the mama's nest
With a bullet vest and curious chest
Got the ammo on the brain but I hide the best
Hey, I'm pumped up call me dough cooking
Gooey salty soul tookin'
Batches in a row lookin'
Magic as all hell. We livin'
Never ever will we give in
To a wag beat fuck with Lazerbeak
In these mad streets
Get it, go there and we give it
Haters will forbid it
They fall into the minutes
Because of imagination
Now the ones who in the nation
We the ones who need escapin'
Then we find some new ovens
And we made it
Six-pence and land on the richer
Cut a niggah up and hung him
Like Jack the Ripper
Undo your zipper
Get on your knees
And get ready for the industry
In a nutshell (get it?)
Them goods don't get got
If it's the only thing you got
Better keep them in that hot black pot
The only thing colder than the local
Tell another winter
Thrift store shopping
Look like Anna Wintour
You ain't gotta ask about it 'cuz I been hurr
Ridin' in them chariots
Like we in Ben Hur
Yah sure, ya know
Yah sure, ya know
Yah sure, ya know...
Rappin and rappin and
I been steadily stackin
I put these niggahs in napkins
And tuck 'em down for a nap
And apologies to the Capitol
Because I don't pay my capital
And if you happen to hear this then
Just pretend that you didn't at all
Stop
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
Got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my batches and cookies
I got my what
Ooo, goo cookies, cream
Ooo, goo cookies, cream
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