Don’t Like Me

(This will make 'em run it back, make 'em run it back)
Who made this?
Yeah, pop out
Tell 'em, pop out
(Twisted Genius, baby)
Pop out

Put this on film, I'm cutting up like Zeus
(I'm cutting up like Zeus)
Thinking she can pass me up
I'm steady, running through (I'm running through)
The way these throwing shots
Must think they bulletproof (bulletproof)
You know I'm quick to show my
They think I'm fully nude

Never the type to throw no shade in none of my interviews (no)
And girl, don't ask why he picked me
He just ain't into you (he just ain't into you)
See how I keep these tight just like they tennis shoes
Tennis chains around my neck, they playing pick-a-boo

I'm undefeated like Gervonte, I'm the people's champ
That know she ain't got no bars, she need a writing camp
Be typing so much online, she got her fingers cramped
I never trip, but if I do, it's coming with the stamp

Yeah, pop out (pop out)
These ain't on, they doing bad (oh)
And I must be St. Nick
I'm in my bag (I'm in my bag)
You knowing I'm who these pick and that's the gag
And that's why don't like me (don't like me)

These ain't on, they doing bad (they doing bad)
And I must be St. Nick
I'm in my bag (I'm in my bag)
You knowing I'm who these pick and that's the gag (I'm holding that)
And that's why don't like me (don't like me)

Love my favorite, that's why I got my tattoo
(Got my tattoo, yeah)
India, I feel you, I be running back too
(I be running back)
Catch me courtside with my, I'm like Jayda Wayda
(Catch me courtside)
Okay, the way I got the cake, he should've been a baker
(Okay, okay, okay, okay)

Yeah, stomping on these, I'm like Draymond Green
(Stomping on these)
Talking all that, can't keep they clean (can't keep your clean)
I'm the type to get all this paper like it's a fax machine
(I get the paper, aye)
Been running circle 'round you, since I was 15, 14, 13 (yeah)

The truth they sucking, ain't got no real talent, huh
(Ain't got no real talent)
Falling harder than the crate challenge (falling off)
I be sipping tea, these spilling tea, yeah (they sipping tea)
Ice Spice, your- he feeling me (he be feeling me)

Yeah, pop out
These ain't on, they doing bad (they know)
And I must be St. Nick
I'm in my bag (yeah, okay)
You knowing I'm who these pick and that's the gag
And that's why don't like me (don't like me)

These ain't on they doing bad
And I must be St. Nick
I'm in my bag (I'm in my bag)
You knowing I'm who these pick and that's the gag
And that's why these don't like me (don't like me, yeah)



Credits
Writer(s): Deundraeus Portis, Lebra Daniels
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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