My Type.
Yo
This one's for all the girls with lame fucking boyfriends
Fuck em'
Ay, look
In your bitch crib connected to the Wifi
Sacha Baron Cohen, tryna make her my wife
Baby where you going, we don't need a night light
Yeah I know you're taken, shit, guess that makes you my type
(Ay)
My type
(Ay)
My type
Black beamer, but I pull up like a white knight
(Ay)
My type
(Yuh)
My type
Fuck your man, baby, leave him on the sidelines
What you doing with a man like that
Send him home, then I'll take you to the back
Treat me right and I'll do it like that
Alright girl, listen
See her on the gram, little red two piece
She be coming over, breaking in the new sheets
Little vibe, wanna fly, talking to Greece
Nah, he can't come baby, I only bought two seats
What you talking bout lady, I'm a nice guy
Feel the heat while you sipping on the Mai Tais
Take a seat, I can tell you bout the high life
Know you got a man, shit, guess that makes you my type
(Ay)
My type
(Ay)
My type
Home-wrecking while I'm serving up the white wine
(Ay)
My type
(Yuh)
My type
Fuck your man, baby, leave him on the sidelines
Don't you worry, yeah you know the secrets safe
You can have it if you want it, night or day
Treat me right, baby know that I'll behave
Alright girl, let's talk
You say you like him so much, then why we talking still?
Why you gimme eyes when you know he's watching still?
Why you telling him "Don't worry please, you gotta chill, we're just friends"
If you fuck your friends, then we've got a deal
Oh, he's mad now, saying shit like "I'll fight"
Tell him that I'm mixing up your shit like Tie-Dye
Tell him that you like him while you're wishing I was inside
Know I love a challenge, shit, guess that makes you my type
(Ay)
My type
(Ay)
My type
You can leave him now, I think it's the right time
(Ay)
My type
(Yuh)
My type
Fuck your man, baby, leave him on the sidelines
(Ay)
My type
(Ay)
My type
It ain't hard to see baby, I'm the right guy
(Ay)
My type
(Yuh)
My type
Fuck your man, baby, leave him on the sidelines
This one's for all the girls with lame fucking boyfriends
Fuck em'
Ay, look
In your bitch crib connected to the Wifi
Sacha Baron Cohen, tryna make her my wife
Baby where you going, we don't need a night light
Yeah I know you're taken, shit, guess that makes you my type
(Ay)
My type
(Ay)
My type
Black beamer, but I pull up like a white knight
(Ay)
My type
(Yuh)
My type
Fuck your man, baby, leave him on the sidelines
What you doing with a man like that
Send him home, then I'll take you to the back
Treat me right and I'll do it like that
Alright girl, listen
See her on the gram, little red two piece
She be coming over, breaking in the new sheets
Little vibe, wanna fly, talking to Greece
Nah, he can't come baby, I only bought two seats
What you talking bout lady, I'm a nice guy
Feel the heat while you sipping on the Mai Tais
Take a seat, I can tell you bout the high life
Know you got a man, shit, guess that makes you my type
(Ay)
My type
(Ay)
My type
Home-wrecking while I'm serving up the white wine
(Ay)
My type
(Yuh)
My type
Fuck your man, baby, leave him on the sidelines
Don't you worry, yeah you know the secrets safe
You can have it if you want it, night or day
Treat me right, baby know that I'll behave
Alright girl, let's talk
You say you like him so much, then why we talking still?
Why you gimme eyes when you know he's watching still?
Why you telling him "Don't worry please, you gotta chill, we're just friends"
If you fuck your friends, then we've got a deal
Oh, he's mad now, saying shit like "I'll fight"
Tell him that I'm mixing up your shit like Tie-Dye
Tell him that you like him while you're wishing I was inside
Know I love a challenge, shit, guess that makes you my type
(Ay)
My type
(Ay)
My type
You can leave him now, I think it's the right time
(Ay)
My type
(Yuh)
My type
Fuck your man, baby, leave him on the sidelines
(Ay)
My type
(Ay)
My type
It ain't hard to see baby, I'm the right guy
(Ay)
My type
(Yuh)
My type
Fuck your man, baby, leave him on the sidelines
Credits
Writer(s): Colin Macgillivray
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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