FOOD

Cover yourself, bitch
Put on a fuckin' shirt
Hairy ass armpits
That shit is gross
(Fuck you, Mia)

Cover myself, respect my health
Baby girl, don't you never tell me shit
(Let it go, let it go, let it go)
I don't wanna hear it, no
(Let it go, let it go, let it go)
I go back and forth like a lover
Above the ground, then I'm under, uh
(Ah-ah, ah, ah-ah)
Put on a shirt, don't dress like a man
Oh my God, don't you never tell me shit
(Let it go, let it go, let it go)
I don't like your spirit
(Let it go, let it go, let it go)

Tryna get high with no company
You leave your mind in the gutter
I'm young and wise like a mother
(Bitch, shut the fuck up)
I don't feel like me when you talkin'
Nah, I don't feel like me when you talkin'
All this weakness in my knees
Damn, this bitch can barely breathe
Not your honey, let me be
I don't wanna eat, I don't wanna eat

Talk with your tits, let it all in
Talk to the kids, let 'em begin
To understand the weight that the ladies bring in
Make your own body like a buffet
Two little titties lookin' lovely
But I can never free 'em in the right way
And mama never told me, "Take it lightly"
I am not a bubble, but, bitch, I'm 'bout to pop off
D-D, double the greet, he tryna talk soft
Into me, preconceived fantasy
He tryna dance with me
I stand still, but he don't know the deal
I'm unconcealed, he tryna cop a feel
Bitch, I'm in a T-shirt, bite until your teeth hurt
Don't you know I read your mind?
Look me in my fuckin' eye

In a tree
Catching sleep
Got that green in my eyes, baby (Yeah), ooh
In a tree (Yeah)
Smokin' tree (Yeah)
I feel, high, high, high
High, high, high, high, high, high
High, high, high, high
High, high, high, high, high, high
High, high, high, high

My shell compels me to say these things
Bitch, tell me I'm pretty
My shell compels me to say these things
Bitch, tell me I'm pretty



Credits
Writer(s): Mia Gladstone, Daniel Shyman
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link