Yung god when I ride up Not too many that can fuck with me Never hung up on the bullshit I can't afford that type of luxury How'd I get so faded How'd I get so faded I'm boutta' do a show in paris I swear I'm feelin' like I made it
Makin' deposits off of bein' a prophet Turnin' visions into riches Way too big for my pockets Baby girl I'm a star I suggest you acknowledge it While you were scalin' out your pride I was weighing my options Like ain't no room in my pictures For bitches I end up croppin' I've been movin' and flippin' And livin' life like I'm poppin' I'm the young yacht owner Bitch and I'm not sober Yeah, they had me on probation But I'll be done in october
C'mon
You don't have to love me love me But you gon' have to fuck with me You don't have to love me love me But you gon' have to fuck with me
Yung god when I ride up Not too many that can fuck with me Never hung up on the bullshit I can't afford that type of luxury How'd I get so faded How'd I get so faded I'm boutta' do a show in paris I swear I'm feelin' like I made it
Society tryna' reduce me to simplicity But little do they know That I'm designed by the divinity Not wrapped up in your rules I'm intertwined with the infinity Baby close your eyes You'll realize that you're feelin' me Sip g-I-n Flip these problems Flip these hoes into 16's ahh shit How'd I get so faded How'd I get so faded
You don't have to love me love me But you gon' have to fuck with me
Compositor: Russell James Vitale (Russell Vitale) (BMI)Editor: Sony ATV Ballad (BMI)Administração: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLCECAD verificado obra #17560711 em 20/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM