LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚
You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi
Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture
Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters
Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers
Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me
Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy
Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo
I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow
You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)
Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey
I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again
Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches
You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)
They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)
That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh
(You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')
Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)
Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)
Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)
White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this
I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit
Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)
Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)
Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)
Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)
Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush
I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)
South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like
And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)
Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture
Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters
Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers
Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me
Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy
Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo
I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow
You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)
Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey
I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again
Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches
You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)
They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)
That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh
(You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')
Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)
Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)
Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)
White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this
I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit
Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)
Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)
Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)
Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)
Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush
I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)
South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like
And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)
Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
Credits
Writer(s): William Leonard Roberts, Brian Imanuel, Marcus Morton
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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