You Lyrics

Yeah
Tiller
Word, and

Young Lola, the controlla, come closer
Mad pretty, make me lose composure
Tad tipsy, 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

I’m a badass Brooklyn brown skin bitch
And I love a hood n** wit’ some toxic dick
Nothin’ but some socks, beef, and brocs in it
Have me walkin’ all crooked in my crocs and shit
Bitch, I go Taraji for my baby boy
Ride it like a Kawasaki, that’s his favorite toy
I’ma swipe his EBT like an Amex, give it to ’em raw, no draws, no latex
Yeah, I got him butt-naked for me waitin’ at home
Bitch, your pussy ain’t hittin’ if he taking too long
Told him put my name on it, making him moan
The smell of Lola Brooke, that’s his favorite cologne

I’m yours for the summer
Wanna drink until we drunk? I’m choosin’ you, baby
Things I wanna do to ya, baby
Say he cray still I gotta take a risk on you
Like, why would I lie when I’m tryna put this on you, baby?

Tryna make a choice between his leg or his face
Shit gettin’ more intense than Election Day
What I expect today is good neck, hood sex
Stop callin’ his phone, bitch, he catchin’ up on rest
Fuckin’ wit me is a W, fuck ’em at the W
The way you cummin’ quick seems to trouble you
I want a roughneck n** that’s masculine
Sex drive wild and his ass is immaculate
Put it in my, uh
N** stabbin’ it, a shooter that assassin it, tongue doin’ magic tricks
Foot on neck, hand on frontal, got ’em bussin’ nuts ‘fore we leave the Holland tunnel

I’m yours for the summer
Wanna drink until we drunk? I’m choosin’ you, baby
Things I wanna do to ya, baby
Say he cray still I gotta take a risk on you (Hey)
Like, why would I lie when I’m tryna put this on you, baby?

Young Lola, the controlla, come closer
Mad pretty, make me lose composure
Tad tipsy, 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