Night's Rendition
Bad Bitches really ask for the addy
New York cougars pulling up in Taxis
They don't do Ubers
I don't think he's authentic, I'll tax him
That's how I've gotta maneuver
Look at my numbers I'm getting over like the numerator
Smoking this weed in a brown stone with some brown women
1,000 Square feet, 2 beds in it
Storm Tape, it's the night's rendition
Chianti spinning in a glass, it's hitting
All of the nudes you send me get hidden
I look when you're on your way just to build up the tension
She just got a raise, she be shooting her shot like the Smith and
No diamonds appraised, her shits be legit and
I sometimes feel a way that you're moving at this pace
We get money like the point
Her flicks off guard, but she's always on point, yeah
Avant-Garde on her back, shit, Avant-Garde on her bag
Her ego reaches the roof still
She ain't see a doctor in Miami, so I know it's real
I could fuck you in half, and I won't even have to know a pill
Just know I've got skills
Out in Bel-Air like Will
The margin between me and these rappers is wider than Uncle Phil
She, sucking the dick, diabolical
Sonning these niggas, that's biological
Stan Smith's say "RAF"
Last glass, think I'll run her a bath
Was selling pounds and ounces
In that realm of work, you've gotta know math
Cash transfers hand to hand, before Corona
I like her build so I'm on her
Ain't much to me besides Blueberry Braggots and Marijuana
I wake up and I anticipate the nightcap
Imma try to bend her this way, I know she'll like that
Life was kicking my ass I had to fight back
New York cougars pulling up in Taxis
They don't do Ubers
I don't think he's authentic, I'll tax him
That's how I've gotta maneuver
Look at my numbers I'm getting over like the numerator
Smoking this weed in a brown stone with some brown women
1,000 Square feet, 2 beds in it
Storm Tape, it's the night's rendition
Chianti spinning in a glass, it's hitting
All of the nudes you send me get hidden
I look when you're on your way just to build up the tension
She just got a raise, she be shooting her shot like the Smith and
No diamonds appraised, her shits be legit and
I sometimes feel a way that you're moving at this pace
We get money like the point
Her flicks off guard, but she's always on point, yeah
Avant-Garde on her back, shit, Avant-Garde on her bag
Her ego reaches the roof still
She ain't see a doctor in Miami, so I know it's real
I could fuck you in half, and I won't even have to know a pill
Just know I've got skills
Out in Bel-Air like Will
The margin between me and these rappers is wider than Uncle Phil
She, sucking the dick, diabolical
Sonning these niggas, that's biological
Stan Smith's say "RAF"
Last glass, think I'll run her a bath
Was selling pounds and ounces
In that realm of work, you've gotta know math
Cash transfers hand to hand, before Corona
I like her build so I'm on her
Ain't much to me besides Blueberry Braggots and Marijuana
I wake up and I anticipate the nightcap
Imma try to bend her this way, I know she'll like that
Life was kicking my ass I had to fight back
Credits
Writer(s): Jordan Hawkins
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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