Crazy
Oh my god, this is my song
Am I crazy?
Okay this letter's from Jeff from Nashville
Said he met a chick last year mad chill
Kept it on a hundred couple dates getting mad real
Then she flipped the switch, so much screaming need an Advil
See her family Boca, as to a muy loca
She lived for the part, lined up on that
More crave by the day, though she love me
She ain't good at doing much
But she good at spending money like
Met her on a flight to LA
We didn't talk much
She didn't really have much to say
Maybe she star struck
I say baby you have to tell me your name
And what's your number
Should have known right when she say
Sorry for partying
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In your way
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In over there
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
Out your mind
Why you gotta be crazy, crazy
All the time
(I'm not crazy)
I'm talking bad shit, it's tragic
See the first time we met it's like magic
A bad chick
Now I gotta tell her listen
That's it
She was broke from the first time I smashed it
So I rode up to the club, my dojo
Met 4 tonight, they all 4 loco
You know them girls try breaking up the band
Yeah yeah, we caught up
Oh no you don't, she grabbing my phone
She sucked in my happen without his patron
But just because it was in my pic
Doesn't mean they had the pleasure being on my dick
Just sitting there at home for a cellphone ring
Yeah I know you waiting for a ring
It's the same story but we never get it straight
Man I used to call her Becky now she miscommunicate
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In your way
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In over there
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
Out your mind
Why you gotta be crazy, crazy
All the time
(I'm not crazy)
Go crazy, go crazy
Go crazy, oh wait, stop
Go crazy, go crazy
Go crazy, oh wait, stop
(just tell me I'm not crazy)
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In your way
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In over there
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
Out your mind
Why you gotta be crazy, crazy
All the time
(I'm not crazy)
Met her on a flight to LA
We didn't talk much
She didn't really have much to say
Maybe she star struck
I say baby you have to tell me your name
And what's your number
Should have known right when she say
Ok stop
(I hate you)
Am I crazy?
Okay this letter's from Jeff from Nashville
Said he met a chick last year mad chill
Kept it on a hundred couple dates getting mad real
Then she flipped the switch, so much screaming need an Advil
See her family Boca, as to a muy loca
She lived for the part, lined up on that
More crave by the day, though she love me
She ain't good at doing much
But she good at spending money like
Met her on a flight to LA
We didn't talk much
She didn't really have much to say
Maybe she star struck
I say baby you have to tell me your name
And what's your number
Should have known right when she say
Sorry for partying
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In your way
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In over there
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
Out your mind
Why you gotta be crazy, crazy
All the time
(I'm not crazy)
I'm talking bad shit, it's tragic
See the first time we met it's like magic
A bad chick
Now I gotta tell her listen
That's it
She was broke from the first time I smashed it
So I rode up to the club, my dojo
Met 4 tonight, they all 4 loco
You know them girls try breaking up the band
Yeah yeah, we caught up
Oh no you don't, she grabbing my phone
She sucked in my happen without his patron
But just because it was in my pic
Doesn't mean they had the pleasure being on my dick
Just sitting there at home for a cellphone ring
Yeah I know you waiting for a ring
It's the same story but we never get it straight
Man I used to call her Becky now she miscommunicate
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In your way
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In over there
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
Out your mind
Why you gotta be crazy, crazy
All the time
(I'm not crazy)
Go crazy, go crazy
Go crazy, oh wait, stop
Go crazy, go crazy
Go crazy, oh wait, stop
(just tell me I'm not crazy)
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In your way
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
In over there
Why you gotta be crazy, yeah
Out your mind
Why you gotta be crazy, crazy
All the time
(I'm not crazy)
Met her on a flight to LA
We didn't talk much
She didn't really have much to say
Maybe she star struck
I say baby you have to tell me your name
And what's your number
Should have known right when she say
Ok stop
(I hate you)
Credits
Writer(s): Caleb Shapiro, Robert Ziff Resnick
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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