paroles de chanson Confessions - YoungPrototype

You in my heart, baby You in my heart, baby
You in my heart, baby You in my heart, baby
You in my heart, baby You in my heart, baby
You in my heart, baby You in my heart, baby

You in my heart, baby
I'm in the club, drunk as shit, like, bitches be fuckin' or not
Bend her over, arching her back, she call me daddy, While I beat up that box
She tryna sit on my face, hold on, wait, she tryna play with my bop

I'm in the pussy, sound like instrumentals, if that shit wack, I spit on her back
I'm in the club throwing hunnids at bitches, like, I think I gotta relax
I pop a perc, startin' feening' and itchin', like, feening' To catch me a opp
If she a tuti, breakin' her back up, she off the deucey, makin' her act up

I'm off the wock, tryna blow up her back up, like, bend over, scratchin' her back up
Like, oh, shit, bitch, bitch I'm bent off ciroc, like, I'm tryna start on her block
Nutt in that pussy treat her like my main, like, I'm a groupie, bitch, I'm a thot, like
I'm tryna see how you rock, like, turn around, bounce on that uhh

Beat on her pussy, sound like she beat boxin
When I hit it, she be like, dam, shit,
I, I feel in love with the way that she moan in my mouth
Fuck her missionary, ain't no runnin', like, I don't care if we fuck up that couch

I be lowkey fuckin' with my exes, like, Jazzy, one call away
Lucy talkin' to my main, fuck, I got a chill anyway
Shit, fuck, I'm bent fuckin' on her best friends
Like, to this day, and she still ain't find out

Like, I was fuckin' her friends on that couch
I had a crib in the Bronx wit my bitch
And I fucked, like, three of her friends
I can't remember too many to count
All I remember was rounds on that couch

You think I'm toxic, yeah, I know, like
Jessie told me, you not low, like
I had her mom's on the low
She was textin' my gram, like, nigga, give me pole

Light, skin, and conceited, ass fat, I might have to beat it
Thumb on her butt, hit her like I'm mean it
Like, shit, perc got me feening
I'm in the club throwin' hundreds at bitches, like

I think I gotta relax, I pop a perc started feening' and itchin', like
Feening' to catch me a opp, if she a tuti, breakin' her back up
She off the duecey, makin' her act up
I'm off the wock, tryna blow up her back up

Like Bend her ova, scratchin' her back up
Damn, like damn, damn, like scratchin' her back up
Damn, damn, damn, like scratchin' her back up
Damn, damn, damn, like scratchin' her back up

Like bend her ova, scratchin' her back up