Lyrics Uh Uh I'm Gone - Remi, Sensible J

Uh Uh I'm Gone

Bring it back
Bounce to my problems, uh
Bounce to my problems, uh
Bounce to my problems
Uh-huh-huh, uh-huh-huh, uh-huh-huh
Alright, J, let’s get this recording session started, man
I’m ready, woo!
Oh, hold on, two seconds, man, it’s my girl, two seconds
Ring ring, it’s my girlfriend in sync
Just touching base like Thundercat, she miss me
Kisses and hugs, she asks when I’m finishing up
In the studio, I tell her, «My love, I’ll be all night here
I’ll be spending all night here I’ve got some fly ideas
I wrote in the hotels I’ve been staying in
So you know, yeah, you know»
She says, «Cool», but her tone is icy cold
And that’s icy, so I go in politely like, «Baby, what’s wrong?
You know I want to spread you like dijon mustard
But not 'til I’m done with songwriting
I’m getting busy doing my thing
Even though you look so enticing
I’ve gotta rap for my finances»
She says, «That's bogus
You’re probably playing Assassin’s Creed with your bros or
In someone with your clothes off, and that shit don’t float
That broken rubber duckies you better get used to tugging
'Cause you won’t be getting lucky for a while, dear
Nuh-uh, nope, not for a while, dear
I’m sick of these all-nighters, hopin' I get to see my man»
Ho, ho, like Harley Davidson, I’m backfiring, saying
«Girl, it’s tiring having you on my case
Like Sherlock Holmes and Watson in their prime, ah!
This is my 9-to-5, how you think I’m wining and dining you?
And taking you to the drive-ins?
We’re doing this shit all the time and, and I don’t know why
So you should cut it out, girl, you need to cut it out»
She says, «I love you for the feelings you bring
Don’t give a fuck about material things
I don’t care about your wheels or movie reels you take me to see
I just want you next to me when I sleep
Hold me tight all night, yeah, hold me tight all night, yeah»
And now she’s crying on the other side of the line
You know I feel the pressure, turn on my man
Say, «Bounce down this session and we can finish next week»
He’s like, «SMH», I’m like, «SMD»
He’s like, «Come on, mate, stop whining»
And tells me that I’m whipped
And I can’t deny it, no, so I roll a cigarette
Then I go home to her, it’s like
«Damn!
You got it, you got it bad!»