| Press Machine
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| Press Machine
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| Press Machine
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| Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
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| Shit galore, she make em throw more
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| She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
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| I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
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| Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
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| Shit galore, she make em throw more
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| She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
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| I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
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| I’m on the court probably text her when I’m bored
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| She seen the rarri, now she want a horse
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| Gucci couture, and her sunglasses Dior
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| She let the kid, she say Pressa I adore
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| She wanted keys, im like uh huh you need
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| And it’s really killin me, how you get up in those jeans
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| Girl you lucky if you get the Press Machine
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| You ain’t for me if you never bought a drink
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| Before my fame have you ever thought of me, would you ever consider me in your
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| mouth bon appitit
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| I swear I’m fire they should call me hazardry
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| And you can taste it just please don’t use your teeth
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| Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
|
| Shit galore, she make em throw more
|
| She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
|
| I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
|
| Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
|
| Shit galore, she make em throw more
|
| She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
|
| I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
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| I’m her New York, your boyfriend a dork
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| , he came with a sword
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| I need a wraith, I need the porsche
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| I’m not in it in the streets, but I’m knockin on the door
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| 400 on my ring, 300 on my chain
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| How you make the jewellers spit 500 on a chain
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| They call for interviews, but they ain’t Charlamagne
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| I think I feel like Birdman, put respect up on my name
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| These boys they funny, ice cube
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| Her ring weigh an ice cube
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| I might just take his main girl, to show him what the fame do
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| Might pull up in the i8, your boyfriend drive an A2
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| Or move out to the country, too special to live on bayview
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| Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
|
| Shit galore, she make em throw more
|
| She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
|
| I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
|
| Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
|
| Shit galore, she make em throw more
|
| She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
|
| I gave her fame now she ran off to New York |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song New York , by - Pressa. Song from the album Press Machine, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп