paroles de chanson Style & Pattern - Miss Lafamilia

Yeah, yeah, Lord, Lord
Yeah, hey-yeah, yeah
Hey-yeah, yeah
Lord, ay, ay-yeah (ay)
Ay, ay-yeah (ay)
Ay, ay-yeah (ay)
Ay, ay-yeah (ay)
Ay, ay-yeah (ay)
Ay, ay-yeah (ay)
Ay, ay-yeah (ay)

I′m a real buff lady, I moves
I was up late night tryna make my cake right
Never walk a mile in my shoes
You was on date night, I was servin' great whites
Fin left the chat, that′s a real money move
Ay, and I ain't no Cardi, I grew up nasty, I had to choose
Nine-eight suite in Birmingham town
That's why we go down, just check the news

Uh, beggers call me for the one drop
Call me Griselda, I got the blanca
Answer the Lyca, lit behind Topshop
Songs in the drop-trop, summer time hot bop
Don′t stop, ends on flames so I had to switch lanes
Jakes, them try when the fun start
Not into game but myself to blame
I guess it′s the game I was knee-deep under

Uh, and this shit gets better
Sylas is thin as we're holdin′ Berettas
Hot on the road so I roll with my wetter
Bitches don't try me, there′s problems? I'll get her
Green at the turn and my Jeep get icey
I′m not surprised that these bitches don't like me
Whippin' the pirates, food come pricey
Trapped in the bango with roaches and mice

Style and pattern (style and pattern)
We make tings move, whoosh
I might go Hatton (might go Hatton)
And make my neck flood (make my neck flood)
We don′t do chattin′ (we don't do chattin′)
That's not in the textbook (not in the, uh)
Don′t mean to be braggin' (uh)
But I think I′m next up

Style and pattern (style and pattern)
We make tings move, whoosh
I might go Hatton (might go Hatton)
And make my neck flood
We don't do chattin' (we don′t do chattin′)
That's not in the textbook (not in the book)
Don′t mean to be braggin' (uh)
But I think I′m next up

I'ma diss everything that will stand in my way
If you fi get gutted then come, we gon′ play
Don't miss the days I was duttin' away
But I seen the storm and I write a new day
And the packs them comin′ like parcels
Phone line blazin′, givin' out bargains
′Fessed up the whip and he stares at my tits
No further action, the dirty bastard

Ah, left two packs with Suzie
Went 'bout my business, call her, "Don′t lose it"
Khat's expensive, choosey
They′re stayin' loyal, they come where my food is
Admit I'm not perfect, I made it worth it
I′ma stay real ′til I die in my grave
Holdin' me down and I′m clearin' the circuit
Yeah I cannot let a bitch jump on my wave

Uh, and this shit gets better
Sylas is thin as we′re holdin' Berettas
Hot on the road so I roll with my wetter
Bitches don′t try me, there's problems? I'll get her
Green at the turn and my Jeep get icey
I′m not surprised that these bitches don′t like me
Whippin' the pirates, food come pricey
Trapped in the bango with roaches and mice

Style and pattern (style and pattern)
We make tings move, whoosh
I might go Hatton (might go Hatton)
And make my neck flood (ay)
We don′t do chattin' (we don′t do chattin')
That′s not in the textbook (ay, ay)
Don't mean to be braggin' (braggin′, braggin′)
But I think I'm next up (uh, uh)

Style and pattern (style and pattern)
We make tings move, whoosh (make them move)
I might go Hatton (might go Hatton)
And make my neck flood (make my neck flood)
We don′t do chattin' (don′t do chattin')
That′s not in the textbook (not in the textbook)
Don't mean to be braggin' (braggin′, braggin′)
But I think I'm next up

Yeah, yeah, yeah
Uh, yeah, yeah, yay, yeah
Ah, mother in a mile
Hahaha! (TDG)