Bryson Tiller

Coy
(Montage, you a fool, boy) (Chris Ro$e gon' be the reason we gon' blow, boom) Bustin' out the head, boy (Hang it up) Like I'm CB, I made her beg for it Now she on my head for it She pop it like, yeah, boy She on top like, yeah, boy A hunnid pack, a hunnid [?], yeah, boy Tad broke, run them racks up, yeah, boy Tried the booby and it's packed out, yeah, boy Killa got a nigga maxed out, yeah, boy And he bound to make me black out, yeah, boy I'ma cook whoever match now, Ralph know it And the chef know it, boy, you best know it Why they said that Tiller washed whеn he kept going(huh) Man, thesе niggas need to stop with that noise (Shh, shh) Spin a nigga block, make him paranoid (Skrrt, pow, pow) She hit me with the WAP and she very coy Know Leray, she look good when I overlay (Overlay) Pretty smile, gold cap with the over face (With the over face, huh) Just tell me where we going, ayy (Ayy, ayy) Dick made her feel welcome, let her overstay (Ayy) Ain't no cappin' bout this D and it ain't lowercase She be trapping, she a G, it's like she own the place 'cause you going places (Uh) All these bitches want see 'cause they so invasious SongtexteFuck these niggas, man, it's like these niggas born jaded Like I'm Matt Damon, bitch, I'm going Bourne Jason Niggas think they lookin' down now it's more adjacent Slum Tiller got the crown, bitch, who gon' take it? All these drippin' made 'em drown like it's pourin' rainin' I'ma tip her ass in pounds and I got more weight In a foreign place, girl, you done touring states Take a French pic, fuck a portrait Popping big shit on [?] Don't be timid, don't be coy, don't ignore fate (Uh) Nah, fuck these bitches, you and money correlate Money spread in my hand, know you see me, yeah Spread it out [?] Stand beneath me I'ma be Superman, she believe me, yeah Girl, do that old dance, dance, dance Aus Songtexte Mania