I Don't Like You (feat. Lady London, Justin Aura & TM)

Yeah,

Uh,

I don't like your height, I don't like your type
I don't like your lace-front wigs and your tights
I don't like you blowing up my phone all night
And I don't like them long ass texts that you type
And I don't like your lashes, Fuck you know about fashion?
And why your nails so long you can't grab shit?
And why you on IG like you the baddest?
But got a small room and a twin-size mattress
Why you got to come with baggage?
Why you always get mad and start bringing up the past tense?
And why you always got to have shit?
And why I can't never have my own cause you want half it?
Pay for my Uber, Pay for my food
Pay for my vacay, Pay for my shoes
Pay for my weed, fuck it I'm cool
What's a young nigga to do? I don't like you

I don't like you (I don't like you either)
I don't like you (I don't like you either)
I don't like you (I don't like you)
(Hate these niggas)

Nah I don't like you, spin like Mike do
Wake up and write you, what are we in high school?
Fall in love and wife you? collagen, aight cool
Don't fix your lips to ask for me shit
Dip in what stash? swipe what AMEX?
Why I can't pay for them cheap ass spandex?
Listening to Summer, bitch it's getting cold
Forever 21? bitch you getting old
I don't like that thing you do with your leg when you pose
Or how you slightly tilt your head in the Rolls
Or how it's barely no more red on your soles
Look baby girl you got to go, I don't like you

First of all, son on my mother I'm heaven sent
Second off, this frontal cost double your fucking rent
So this lace type to put you in your place
What I'm spending in a day probably sitting in your safe
I'ma hit you in my spare time, wishing you could hit that
What's up with your hairline, that nigga pushed yo shit back?
Bag on this Mueller, had to get it out this mud
I go half on your Uber I'ma get it back in blood, you a bitch nigga
I don't like your whip, listen, I don't like your spot
I don't like that you and all your niggas share a watch
I don't like you never throwing money in the strippy
I don't like you only having twenty dollar giffy's
I don't like how you walking, I bought you them pair of shoes
Talking as if you and your brother don't share a room
Hate my lashes when you come with this baggage, what is this madness?
You want static with the youngest of jackets, niggas I've had it
I don't like nothing you do
I see your last three bitches, like nothing your screw
Nothing you fuck, I don't like nothing you touch
And your whole team pussy nigga none of you tough
Hate these niggas