paroles de chanson Foreign - Sal Houdini

I'm not the lovey type
I'm from the hood shawty
Can't give the type of love you want the way I should shawty
You cookin' breakfast oh word now you a cook shawty
She give me head soon as I wake that mornin' good shawty
I do it all shawty
We go to restaurants that your ex cannot afford shawty
You fuckin' with a real man that ain't broke shawty
The type to go to games and sit us by the court shawty
One minute you be at work
Next minute you on a flight
Ain't even give me the light
Just know you spendin' the night
I start believin' myself
When I tell you all these lies
I'm makin' sure they sound good
It's gettin' so out of line
You know I tend to forget
Baby you ain't even mine
I'm pullin' up in the foreign
We do Lamborghini drives
You givin' off pretty vibes
You get attention from guys
They better lower their eyes
We got some dangerous ties

Suicide doors girl you know it
Pull up to your crib in the foreign then I floor it
If it ain't foreign you already know it's borin'
Shootin' from the deep like I'm Steph and I'm scorin'
You already know the vibes what you want we can afford it
YSL, Louis, or Dior you could own it
I just booked a flight don't even know where it's goin'
I just know we goin' and we keep on fuckin' goin'

Had to step back from the picture
Had to leave had to dip up
You know when I come, I come back and I'm bigger
Murder all these beats I'm a killer
Streets walkin' 'round got the index on the trigger
Hand in the pouch open zipper
Steady with the shot, make you dance, make you quiver
Foam cups straight, no mixer
I be in the stu makin' hits with the liquor
Downin' the whole damn thing fuck the liver
Only time I settle's for a big booty stripper
Only competition that I see is in the mirror
Linked up with Sophie she only gettin' thicker
Ass got wider the tongue got slicker
Fly out to Bahamas book a whole big villa
FaceTime my ex but the hoe ain't pick up
No she ain't pick up
Bet the new guy that she with ain't richer
Always took my time bet his ass much quicker
If he got a problem he could talk to my hitter
Yeah
Finger on the trigger
Pussy motherfucker say hello to my killer
Sneezed on the beat and the beat got sicker
Houdini all on her mouth like liquor

Suicide doors girl you know it
Pull up to your crib in the foreign then I floor it
If it ain't foreign you already know it's borin'
Shootin' from the deep like I'm Steph and I'm scorin'
You already know the vibes what you want we can afford it
YSL, Louis, or Dior you could own it
I just booked a flight don't even know where it's goin'
I just know we goin' and we keep on fuckin' goin'