Lyrics

(Ra-Ra-Ra-Ra-Random) yeah, yeah, yeah yeah Young fucking Aitch, Big Shell, 0161 (all of that stuff) Blah-blah (all of that fucking sh-) Hold tight WhYJay, the pr- (WhYJay) Yeah, yeah (yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah) Yo Two, two bags in the boot, mine's Burb's and the Birkin's hers You gotta bend it more when you firm this work It's a learning curve, yeah In a Merc' when we first done dirt This girl got me swervin' curbs Shit, swear the head game got man cursed Which purse should I purchase first? Get, get her loose, try lips me in public, MAC on my LV denim Stepped to the mic on nothin' but wooshings Fill it with shells, get peppered Br-bro got a toy from the farm, don't test him He fill it with bells and press it (whoosh) Boy thinks he's steppin' to me Ain't nothin' a sheep can tell his shepherd Just copped new seats for the Range Don't worry, your girlfriend nice and comfy It's like I'm stuck in my ways Ain't tryna behave or retire my fuckery Soon as I'm touchin' the place Gang uppin' the pace, come slide, I'm cushty Thick thighs with the loveliest shape Ain't judging the weight 'cause I like 'em fluffy I, I can't hear it Less than 50, can't clear it Whip on flip if I steer it Babe, when you gonna leave your man? He's not, he's not serious Hit it bareback, I'm fearless You weren't tryna chat to man back then Now you can't chat to man, period I can't hear it Less than 50, can't clear it Whip will flip if I steer it Babe, when you gonna leave your man? He's not, he's not serious Hit it bareback, I'm fearless You weren't tryna chat to man back then Now you can't chat to man, period Yo, check If I put on my suit and tie And step in the place when the mood is right Have your marjay lookin' like "Who's this guy?" Yeah She thinks I'm a yute, put a yute inside Backshots in the bath 'cause the coochie's tight She ain't have no bum but her boobs was nice Yeah, arms pinned to the side like she's crucified All in the hips, got the movements right Lift her left leg up, this ain't Toosie Slide Target small but my piece is long If I hit first time, then I'm shooting twice On my case like I'm always wrong When it comes to the-, know I do this right Fuck it up, fuck it up, pull it back, run it up Step in and turn it up Hop out the Cully and make me some money Sign off a cheque, then I double up I don't know about closing time I just tell the boss "Lift the shutters up" I don't know about holding .9's I just tell the block "Dig the whoosher up" I can't hear it Less than 50, can't clear it Whip on flip if I steer it Babe, when you gonna leave your man? He's not, he's not serious Hit it bareback, I'm fearless You weren't tryna chat to man back then Now you can't chat to man, period
Writer(s): Dean Mizzi, Divjot Abhol, Harrison James Armstrong, Jacob Daniel Jones, Taras Sulsarenko Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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