Текст песни You (feat. Bryson Tiller) - Lola Brooke

Tonight, tonight, tonight, oh
Yeah, Tiller, woah
And Young Lola, controller, 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, there?) Uh-uh, uh-uh

I'm a bad- Brooklyn brown skin - (brown skin -)
And I love a hood - with some toxic - (hey, baby)
Nothing but some socks, beef and brocs in it (woah)
Have me walking all crooked in my Crocs and - (brr)
-, I go Taraji for my baby boy (for my baby boy)
Ride it like a Kawasaki, that's his favorite toy (favorite toy)

I'ma swipe his EBT like a Amex (uh)
Give it to him raw (uh), no drawers, no latex (uh, uh)
Yeah, I got him butt naked for me waitin' at home (waitin' at home)
B-, your - ain't hittin' if he takin' too long
Told him, "Put my name on it" (yeah), yeah, I'm makin' him moan
Smellin' Lola Brooke, that's his favorite cologne

Ha, huh, I'm yours for the summer
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
Like why would I lie when I'm tryna put this on you (yeah), baby?
Ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah

Tryna make a choice between his leg or his face
- gettin' more intense than Election Day
What I expect today is good -, hood -
Stop callin' his phone, -, he catchin' up on rest (uh)
Loving to with me is a W, - him at the W
The way you c- quick seems to trouble you

I want a rough neck -, that's nasty
My sex drive wild and this - is immaculate
Put it in my, uh, - stabbin' it
Shooter that assassin it, tongue doin' magic tricks
Foot on neck (yeah), hand on frontal (frontal)
Got him bussin' nuts 'fore we leave the Holland Tunnel (yeah, ooh-ooh)

(I'm yours) I'm yours for the summer (hey)
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-woah, baby, yeah
Young Lola, controller, 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, you know I see you come over (you know I see you over there, there, there?)