| See, baby
|
| You ain’t gotta hide
|
| I seen who you are
|
| You beautiful
|
| I love you
|
| Sh-sh-she taste like some papaya, oh (Baby)
|
| Fruits of my labor getting riper, oh
|
| Backwoods and white tees on my rider
|
| Friday night headliner from Chicago to China, oh
|
| Now let me find out you a pyro, oh
|
| You blunt as fuck, you playin' with fire-oh, oh
|
| Light that ass up like some sativa
|
| Girl, assume the procedure
|
| Lower regions my leisure
|
| Let me give you this gyro
|
| Hold on, look up my flight code
|
| Snap me that in the airport
|
| Almost ran in a light pole
|
| Say she never been to Disneyland
|
| Fuck her in the air 'til she dizzy, damn
|
| I don’t really be with that goofy shit
|
| All on the Tweety, tryna post a pic
|
| Stroke so dope, got motion sick
|
| We in theaters, a motion pic
|
| Musketeers, new booty whip, coupe and shit
|
| This could be me and you
|
| She love how I move the whole venue
|
| I’m in the throat like halls, Arsenio
|
| I’m supposed to be home soon
|
| But that yeah-yeah so mhm
|
| Sh-sh-she taste like some papaya, oh
|
| Fruits of my labor getting riper, oh
|
| Backwoods and white tees on my rider
|
| Friday night headliner from Chicago to China, oh
|
| Now let me find out you a pyro, oh
|
| You blunt as fuck, you playin' with fire, though
|
| Light that ass up like some sativa
|
| Girl, assume the procedure
|
| Lower regions my leisure
|
| Leisure, leisure, leisure
|
| Whoa, baby, whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby
|
| Leisure, leisure, leisure
|
| Whoa, baby, whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby
|
| See, baby, I ain’t hiding
|
| I was crazy when you met me
|
| It’s just that I love the D
|
| I mean, I love you, baby
|
| He know I ain’t doing no back and forth (Hah)
|
| Laid up on 'em like we on the court (Hold up)
|
| Sex game had me going hoarse
|
| Dick so good, gotta ask for more
|
| Woods and a fifth while we on the porch
|
| UK only time I pass a port
|
| And he knew what it was when he signed up
|
| Been breakin' hearts like plastic forks
|
| Put me up in yo' schedule (Schedule)
|
| Told him come meet 'round 7 (7)
|
| Ain’t rocking nothing but your sweater
|
| I heard it might rain, you should bring a umbrella ('Brella)
|
| That yelling shit just get me wetter (Wetter)
|
| Make up sex, Fenty the preference (Preference)
|
| Throwin' up his and her bezels
|
| No limit on him or the debit
|
| That nigga’ll buy me the world if I let him
|
| He know I’ma get the shit bussin', no fee-fee (Ridin')
|
| Told him I’m ridin', Kiki (Love me)
|
| Drippin' designer, CC, GG
|
| A savage like Riri (Do you love me?)
|
| Body look glittered in gold (Gold)
|
| That money like me, it won’t fold
|
| Ass like a cinnamon roll, head and pussy game cold
|
| Sh-sh-she taste like some papaya, oh
|
| Fruits of my labor getting riper, oh
|
| Backwoods and white tees on my rider
|
| Friday night headliner from Chicago to China, oh
|
| Now let me find out you a pyro, oh
|
| You blunt as fuck, you playin' with fire, though
|
| Light that ass up like some sativa
|
| Girl, assume the procedure
|
| Lower regions my leisure
|
| Leisure, leisure, leisure
|
| Whoa, baby, whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby
|
| Leisure, leisure, leisure
|
| Whoa, baby, whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby
|
| Leisure, leisure, leisure
|
| Whoa, baby, whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby
|
| Leisure, leisure, leisure
|
| Whoa, baby, whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby
|
| Whoa, baby |