Somewhere
So, Mistakes Were Made
Yeah my mind's off somewhere
Yeah my mind's on something
I feel my mind's off somewhere
Yeah, I feel my
Aye
Write, write back
Love with a nigga like me
Face them facts
From friends to an enemy
Make it last
Moments like this they leave
Life moves fast
Bon appétit
Yeah my mind's off that vibe pack
Caught up in the whirlwind of life
She young and fine, in her prime
No interest in settling or playing nice
It's beauty in the struggle, she wanna skip that
Straight to Miami vice
I don't know if can supply that future
For ya, doesn't really suit my stride
I bet on myself, born in Vegas
Runs through my blood I guess
100 on red, locked with the dealer
Praying that she doesn't miss
3k off nothing, money doubling
Gives you a type of bliss
But in your head
You know that you ain't earning shit
It's 2am in the morning
We faded off that Georgia
That's whiskey sour, paired with
The weed that I know she gonna roll up
Tells me I lied, like baby girl
Come Thru and cite your sources
When it rains it pours, my heart is sore
I ain't up for our discussions
Twin ass flames
Losing our light
Tried our best
Gave a real ass fight
Broke my heart up in the city
Winter time
But this bottled whiskey got me
Feeling right
Feeling right
Feeling right
Feeling right
Feeling right
I took a little drink
Took a little bit of it
Took a piece of the pie
It's Whiskey flavored cinnamon
Masking the burn of the heat
Straight from the rye
She like Aperol spritz(ing) it
Thinking that she fitting in
Should have taken that as a sign
I could have your heart, leave the frills
Man that would have made my life
Cuz I'm tired of breaking
Tired of trading
Tired of feeling meek
I'm tired of feeling
Time to sit with
Emotions, let em breathe
This space between us both
It's miles, a gap, we got to leap
It's done for her
It's up for me
It's 2am in the morning
We faded off that Georgia
That's whiskey sour, paired with
The weed that I know she gonna roll up
Tells me I lied, like baby girl
Come Thru and cite your sources
When it rains it pours, my heart is sore
I ain't up for our discussions
Yeah my mind's off somewhere
Yeah my mind's on something
I feel my mind's off somewhere
Yeah, I feel my
Aye
Write, write back
Love with a nigga like me
Face them facts
From friends to an enemy
Make it last
Moments like this they leave
Life moves fast
Bon appétit
Yeah my mind's off that vibe pack
Caught up in the whirlwind of life
She young and fine, in her prime
No interest in settling or playing nice
It's beauty in the struggle, she wanna skip that
Straight to Miami vice
I don't know if can supply that future
For ya, doesn't really suit my stride
I bet on myself, born in Vegas
Runs through my blood I guess
100 on red, locked with the dealer
Praying that she doesn't miss
3k off nothing, money doubling
Gives you a type of bliss
But in your head
You know that you ain't earning shit
It's 2am in the morning
We faded off that Georgia
That's whiskey sour, paired with
The weed that I know she gonna roll up
Tells me I lied, like baby girl
Come Thru and cite your sources
When it rains it pours, my heart is sore
I ain't up for our discussions
Twin ass flames
Losing our light
Tried our best
Gave a real ass fight
Broke my heart up in the city
Winter time
But this bottled whiskey got me
Feeling right
Feeling right
Feeling right
Feeling right
Feeling right
I took a little drink
Took a little bit of it
Took a piece of the pie
It's Whiskey flavored cinnamon
Masking the burn of the heat
Straight from the rye
She like Aperol spritz(ing) it
Thinking that she fitting in
Should have taken that as a sign
I could have your heart, leave the frills
Man that would have made my life
Cuz I'm tired of breaking
Tired of trading
Tired of feeling meek
I'm tired of feeling
Time to sit with
Emotions, let em breathe
This space between us both
It's miles, a gap, we got to leap
It's done for her
It's up for me
It's 2am in the morning
We faded off that Georgia
That's whiskey sour, paired with
The weed that I know she gonna roll up
Tells me I lied, like baby girl
Come Thru and cite your sources
When it rains it pours, my heart is sore
I ain't up for our discussions
Credits
Writer(s): Moritz Kelch
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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