You Know It

Open windows and pedals of roses on sheets Yea laying there, late drives to the beach Like damn I just met you last week I threw your shit in the trash I hope you never come back don't even bother to ask I won't pick up the phone when you're feeling alone Couldn't pay me to give a fuck about you Tell that bitch whatever she wants to hear I know it's not true She's probably taking pictures begging him to post it Deleting bitches out his phone like I always did I'm in his head while she's giving him head and you know it. Blocking your number and throwing a fit I know you miss that shit We would make up in hours That song you're playing, it was ours I'm in your head while she's up in your bed and you know it Couldn't pay me to give a fuck about you Tell that bitch whatever she wants to hear I know it's not true And fuck you