[Tyler, The Creator]
D motherfuckin' Savage, nigga
Where the fuck, I'm-I'm your biggest motherfuckin' fan
Nigga, on my motherfuckin' mama
I ain't talkin' out my ass, nigga, shit
Life goes on and the sun gon' shine (Uh-huh)
Feels like I'm failin', failin', failin'
Please, I need help, help, help
Talkin' to myself, self, self
Life goes on and the sun gon' shine
Feels like I'm failin', failin', failin' (Woo)
Please, I need help, help, help (Woo)
Talkin' to myself, self, self (Woo)
(Oh)
(Oh my God)
Ayy, look at my chain, bitch, look at the watch
She wanna leave with me
I'm feelin' like Roddy, I beat up her box
Sipping on Wock', can't see
I'm fresh out of jail, but I need a Glock
Reppin' that 3-3-3
I'm killin' 'em dead, don't know what they thought
Bitch, I'm a goddamn beast
He froze with his poles, I'm thumbin' through rolls
Make bread in my goddamn sleep
We hit up the the road, I'm fuckin' these hoes
She hate every time I leave
I bought her Chanel, she hold on my Glock
Make sure the cops don't speak
And if I go down, just please hold me down
Don't you change on me
Ayy, I been workin' so hard, gotta shine
Put in work, I'ma put in the grind
Dawg, you know I got cash on my mind
I go deep, fell in love in her spine
Ayy, I pull up to your hood and jump out a bush
And show you this forty of mine
Ayy, I got dope in my veins, I'm sippin' on mud
I'm tryna kill some', I'm high
Put that dumb-ass nigga in the sky
I get it poppin' like Fourth of July
She wanna suck on my dick while I drive
Said she love me, bitch, why did you lie?
Count hunnids and fifties, I promise it's litty
Lil' nigga, I'm runnin' the city (Ayy)
I'm ridin' big B, that's the Bentley (Go)
I'm shootin', you know that it's with me
Ayy, look at my chain, bitch, look at the watch
She wanna leave with me
I'm feelin' like Roddy, I beat up her box
Sipping on Wock', can't see
I'm fresh out of jail, but I need a Glock
Reppin' that 3-3-3
I'm killin' 'em dead, don't know what they thought
Bitch, I'm a goddamn beast
He froze with his poles, I'm thumbin' through rolls
Make bread in my goddamn sleep
We hit up the the road, I'm fuckin' these hoes
She hate every time I leave
I bought her Chanel, she hold on my Glock
Make sure the cops don't speak
And if I go down, just please hold me down
Don't you change on me
Ayy, I be blowing on gas like a chimney
I got bitch niggas talking 'bout killing me
I be riding with sticks, are you kidding me?
I'm just hoping they matching my energy
Ayy, I'm smoking exotic, my bitch is erotic
I'm flexing, got bands in my pocket
Why you lying? You just need to stop it
I snuck in this bitch with my rocket
I got what you need, a plug to the socket
She all on her knees, she giving me noggin
Ain't getting no cheese, ain't making no profit
I speak to them all like a prophet
I jump in these streets and don't do no talking
I'm throwing up Bs on the block with my partners
We just politicking and counting up dollars
I can't hit if that pussy got mileage
Ayy, look at my chain, bitch, look at the watch
She wanna leave with me
I'm feelin' like Roddy, I beat up her box
Sipping on Wock', can't see
I'm fresh out of jail, but I need a Glock
Reppin' that 3-3-3
I'm killin' 'em dead, don't know what they thought
Bitch, I'm a goddamn beast
He froze with his poles, I'm thumbin' through rolls
Make bread in my goddamn sleep
We hit up the the road, I'm fuckin' these hoes
She hate every time I leave
I bought her Chanel, she hold on my Glock
Make sure the cops don't speak
And if I go down, just please hold me down
Don't you change on me
Life goes on and the sun gon' shine (Uh-huh)
Feels like I'm failin', failin', failin'
Please, I need help, help, help
Talkin' to myself, self, self
Life goes on and the sun gon' shine
Feels like I'm failin', failin', failin' (Woo)
Please, I need help, help, help (Woo)
Talkin' to myself, self, self (Woo)
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
