You
Lola Brooke, Bryson Tiller
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(Tonight, tonight, tonight, oh) Yeah Tiller, word And young Lola, controlla Come closer, mad pretty Make me lose composure (?), he want you come over Last lap in the city, know I'm unsober, true You know I see you come over (You know I see you over there, there, there?) Uh-uh, uh-uh I'm a badass Brooklyn brown skin bitch (brown skin bitch) And I love a hood nigga with some toxic dick (ayy, you get me) Nothing but some socks, he from Bronx in it (whoa) Have me walking all crooked in my Crocs and shit (brr) Bitch, I go Taraji for my baby boy (for my baby boy) Ride it like a Kawasaki, that's his favorite tour (favorite tour) I'ma swipe his EBT like a AmEx (uh) Give it to him raw (uh), no drawers (uh), no latex (uh) Yeah, I got him butt naked for me waitin' at home (waitin' at home) Bitch, your pussy ain't hittin' if he takin' too long (if he takin' too long) Told him, "Put my name on it" (yeah), yeah, I'm makin' him moan He smellin' Lola Brooke, that's his favorite cologne Ha, huh I'm yours for the summer, wanna Drinking 'til we drunk, I'm choosin' you, baby Things I wanna do to you, baby, you say he crazy so I gotta take a risk on you Like why would I lie when I'm tryna put this on you (yeah), baby? Tryna make a choice between his leg or his face Shit gettin' more intense than election day What I expect today? It's good neck, hood sex Stop callin' his phone, bitch, he catchin' up on rest (uh) Fuckin' with me is a W, f*ck him at the W The way you comin' quick seems to trouble you I want a rough neck nigga that's nasty My sex drive wild and his ass is immaculate Put it in my, nah, nigga stabbin' it A shooter that assassinate, tongue doin' magic tricks (oh) Foot on neck (yeah), he ain't doin' funnel (funnel) Got him bussin' nuts 'fore we leave the Holland Tunnel (yeah, ooh-ooh) Ha, huh I'm yours for the summer (hey), I wanna Drink until we drunk, I'm choosin' you, baby Things I wanna do to you, baby, you say he crazy so I gotta take a risk on you (hey) Like why would I lie when I'm tryna put this on you (yeah), baby? Ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah Yeah, Tiller Oh-ooh-whoa, baby, yeah Young Lola, controlla Come closer, mad pretty Make me lose composure (?), won't you come over Last lap in the city, know I'm unsober, true Know I see you come over (You know I see you over there, there, there)
Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!
Written by: Bryson Tiller, James McKinley, Julian Mason, Kameron Glasper, Khris Riddick-Tynes, Ronnie E. Broomfield, Shyniece Thomas
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"You Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 3 Jun 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/12911877/Bryson+Tiller/You>.
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