Testo Wavy Crete - Babyface Ray feat. Lil Yachty
Testo della canzone Wavy Crete (Babyface Ray feat. Lil Yachty), tratta dall'album Codeine Cowboy
(I just need my space right now)
Yeah, shit don't stop, still goin'
Pour my cup, still flowin' (uh, yeah)
It's us (yeah)
Shit don't stop, still goin' (this shit ain't gon' stop, nigga, you know?)
She still waitin', she need to stop
It's us
Two C's, two cups in a old school with a new slut (for real)
Barry Bonds juiced up, right left wrist (damn), that's a new truck (right wrist)
Bad bitches, rich niggas, crew love, she don't know who to fuck (she don't know)
Louis Timbs, booted up, gave her some, now she wanna chew me up (now she wanna, damn)
Yeah, flip words, flip cane, roof flippin', ridin' down Biscayne
Turnt but ain't shit change, big pistol make a nigga limp strange
Man, you know this shit crazy, niggas get some money, and they get lame (yeah)
Get money, fuck fame (damn), I got more than niggas with a big name (okay)
Niggas call me Big Bro, keep the bitch from 'round me or she gettin' crushed
Grown man, nigga, hush, plain jane cost more than yo' bust
New Benz, old Benz, same friends, new grin on my mouth
Big crib, same addy, push up on me, shoot a nigga right dead in his mouth
Big steppa, who, me? I ain't tryna be nobody top three
Good hos gone wild, off top, this shit ain't nothin' to me (okay)
Caddy V, supercharged, hit the pedal, shit hits like El DeBarge
Late night, high roller, six figures posted up at the Mirage
Geekin' with a superstar, trust fund baby, just wanna suck the ball (okay)
Ten chains, in the hood burnin' rubber, know a nigga lookin' like a God
Y'all be droppin' tape after tape after tape, time to go get a job
Know this shit make these niggas sick, lil' moms will never stop (yeah, yeah-yeah)
Most of my niggas deal or rob, dead Pres' make a nigga feel alive (that's a fact)
Niggas back to back in traffic, me and Doggy ridin' like we Ricky Bobby
How you slime get slimed? Fuck nigga, come and get in with the mob (what's the issue?)
In the coupe talkin' to a God, truth be told, that's only the nigga ridin' (ruff, ruff, ruff)
Fill the section up with vibes, when I leave, I told 'em get in single line (yeah)
V6 goin' loud, had to pour a cup of lean to bring me down (pop it)
These boys live a lie, get it in while these niggas gettin' by (yeah)
Fuck niggas talkin' foul, make a call, we can put 'em in the sky (yeah)
Numbness in my hand, geekin' on ten, shit to the moon (yeah)
Hittin' this bitch and her friend, I don't get sprung, I don't jump brooms (alright)
Feel like Obama 'nem 'cause, yes, we can get niggas boomed
Look like Osama 'nem, my ho get bored, she can't leave the room (what?)
Fuck that, nigga don't pop it like him, I move like Kim, this bitch gon' ooze
Bitch wanna play with jewels, big old Cuban sit on her boobs (that's right)
Move around with a short fuse, niggas be pussy, make 'em pay dues
Fuck all that sack on juice, I like shit sealed, I don't do loose (nah)
And I don't drink no wine, my bitch do crimes, I'm moving like slime
Ho said I said I love her, I must have been lyin', that bitch ain't mine (yeah)
Diamonds all over my arms, just me and Face, that's really my kind
These niggas ain't my kin, Yeezy shit, I'm a don
Credits
Writer(s): Miles Parks Mccollum, Marcellus Rayvon Register, Evan Jarrod Scaife Milton
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