Ribbons

You my favorite one
That I can call on
Whenever you ain't tripping
You the only one
To ever trust my vision
While I'm the mission
You mind easier
For anxiety
From this music bidness
You the reason
Why I cut my whole circle
Like a circumcision
But if we want it
Gotta have it
Wanna keep it
Something's gotta give
And if we need
Then we gotta treat
Like the only way we live
Yo sister seem like she don't like me
Hate to say it
I just keep it real
If you go to her
Bout everything
And nothings good
Then that's the way that she feels
But it's fuck the haters
Cause we in our bag
Young CEO's coming for they ass
Ever since they seen us
They been hella mad
Coming for the bag
So I watch our back
Young bull
And I'm 21
On my Jimmy Butler
I be Benny balling
While I wait on you
I got the henny calling
We should win an Oscar
Like I'm penny father

Pink moscato in our glasses
I swear god damn girl
We on tonight
Fuck you to some Sza
Or some Tiller
Girl it's only right
Oil on the dresser
Do the foreplay just to please her
My tongue game
Make you weaker
You know I do my research
We don't make no movies
We make series
With no teasers
We don't do no threesomes
They just watch us from the bleachers
Fuck you in the studio
Sex game beat the baseline
I'm grip you from yo waistline
Like we talked about on FaceTime
Feel like I'm addicted
Girl I swear that pussy crack
When you leave up out my shower
I be staring at yo ass
At the crib
We on our freak shit
In the streets we show some class
To them other hoes
Y'all trash



Credits
Writer(s): Ingrid Michaelson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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