Songs About You

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Divine the Chef

2:26

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(Yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah)
(You always wanted a song for you, so this next one is for you babycakes)

I ain't mean to call you a bitch, but bitch you hurt my feelings, I swear
This was not a 30, I'm throwin' up in a chair
My homie super BD, he dont like rakes or like stares (No way)
I'm gonna take the jakes on a new high speed up there

Im poppin' pills about it, cuz that shit broke my heart
Im ridin' stikers only; Im paranoid in the dark
Bitch I would kill about you, up the pole watch it spark
You hate the siilent treatment, but Im too high to talk
I fucked my hoe in the back beamer, she rub my head like Trina (Uh, uh)
I'm off the percocet dreamin, she wanna f*ck my demons (Uh, uh)

Crab boil my bag, my bitch a cancer, so she mad at me
Woke up, read her costar, it said go hard, I think I agree
She think my songs about her, but you aint the only dummy I know
You know you wrong about it, but I love me a hoe

It's how I feel about it, as long as you play your role
I pop a pill about it, then I let it go
Off these drugies, stand up on the pedal I feel like Lance Armstrong
Im on perky, in the clubie, yeah tell em play my song
She poppa perkie, throw on Durkie, she want me to f*ck on me long
Cheap ass smoke on all your mans, I pack his in a bong

She think my songs about her, you aint the only dummy I know
Look how you goin' about it, lying to people I know
She think my songs about her, you aint the only dummy I know
Bet you feel strong about it, but baby you are wrong

I go high speed, her pussy get wetter
Its like we car pool together
Pockets on grilled cheese
I got Harvati and Cheddar
Aioli colored my sweater
Stack my bread, double decker
I wanna f*ck her, wanna stretch
I'm sorry if I stress ya
I ain't buy you a whip
But I bought you some Teslas

I left some bread on the dresser, it damn near molded up!
I know a nigga from where I'm from but he folded up!
I know a hungry nigga, hit a store and hold it up!
You wanted a song for you, so this shit hurt good enough
Eat your heart out, bitch I hope you turn carnivorous
The price was titilating
We just, got a crate in
Why you, niggas hatin'
Ball like my last name Ayton
(Yeah yeah)
(Uh uh uh uh uh uh)
(So, did you like my, I mean, your song?)

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