Testo Kno Ya Wrong - ScHoolboy Q
Testo della canzone Kno Ya Wrong (ScHoolboy Q), tratta dall'album Blank Face LP
Know you're wrong, oh
Hey, know you're wrong, oh
These, all they wanna call you talkin' 'bout what they need
Know you're wrong, know you're wrong, oh
All I hear, "Gimme, gimme"
When y'all was sleepin', who was workin' with me
But want these benefits and tour the city
Leechin', won't you find your titty
Know you're wrong, know you're wrong, oh, yeah
Days prayin' on my knees, huh
We made it from the feet, huh, yeah
Then this leech came along
Know you're wrong, oh
You want me do the work, then you live off my life
Know you're wrong, huh
Say you got my back but revealin' snake eyes
Know you're wrong, huh
When I was doin' bad, wasn't textin' my phone
Know you're wrong
Oh, now you wonder what, what
What you wonder? Huh
Call me, yeah
Know you're wrong, oh
Rappin' my ass off, nigga
You're tryna blur my picture
Want me down there with you
Tryna blow my high
You wanna steer my drive
You ask for more than my moms
Try corruptin' my mind
Do some work with them rhymes
When I was broke, you was gone
Know you're wrong, oh, I
Know you're wrong, oh, I
Say words can't express what you do for me when you appear
And don't be blind to see my love is the punch you shouldn't fear
Say words can't express what you do for me when you appear
And don't be blind to see my love is the punch you shouldn't fear
Say, girl jump in my bank account (so)
So I can deposit you (two)
I'm goin' through withdrawals (three)
And I can't afford to lose (so)
Girl, jump in my bank account (so)
So I can deposit you (two)
I'm goin' through withdrawals (three)
And I can't afford to lose
Plasma my TV screen
Hope I go out like BB King
The front row, they cheer for God
I'm sold out on everything
Last night, it was a dream
Thinkin' 'bout you in the worst way
I need your cake like it's your birthday
I'm tryna be in front the TIME page
And plus you rockin' with the big dog
I need my bread like it's the 5th floor
Little lettuce, slice of cheese, sucka please
What it's hittin' for
Let's split the middle like a Philly roll
I get a half, you get a half
Fuck up some commas, I'm a nympho
I'm goin' in just like a dimple
Shots of Patrón to the temple
Collard greens, I stay givin' thanks
Deposit your love, we gon' flood the bank
Wish away, never lose
Lose
Now what we do be up to you, baby
Keep you up past your curfew, lady
Then drive you home with some drive through dome, baby
Keep you out tonight, drinks on, lady
Now what we do be up to you, baby
Keep you up past your curfew, lady
Then drive you home with some drive through dome, baby
Keep you out tonight, drinks on, lady
No sacrifice
Girl, just bein' precise
With my hands on the wheel
While you play with the vice
Credits
Writer(s): Alan Maman, Jason Kevin Pounds, Quincy Matthew Hanley, Lance Howard
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