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letra de everybody like - kid cudi

[intro: kid cudi]
yo
turn up
yah, yea, uhh, uhh
dim the lights (yea-yea, hear me)
dim the lights (all good)

[chorus: kid cudi]
and my n-ggas like ooh
bad b-tches like ooh
everybody like ooh
everybody like ooh
and my n-ggas like ooh
my bad b-tches like ooh
everybody like ooh
everybody like ooh
yea this b-tch like- (yah)

[verse 1: kid cudi]
i got yo b-tch, on my d-ck (woo, yah)
tell me you don’t see these baugettes, n-gga no regrets (none)
once walked the earth with these demons until it ended
the nightmarе, but i won’t forget it, you get it? (hmm)
who’s so smooth, the clеanest n-gga in the room(ha, ha)
they love to love him some more, caught up in that groove(ha, ha)
it’s the rager supreme, now here’s a shovel can you dig it? (dig it)
the boy was insane, they couldn’t stop him, lost control (oh)
now the gods are back tonight (night)
clean and fitted in your life, the life’s alright (yah, right)
bad b-tches, see they love me, i don’t trip bout’ keepin cool
i got my homies, we ride
got some girlies stay the night-night
in the mornin’ sayin’ bye-bye, boo-bye-bye she like no-no (no-no)
i am just too focused, got them trippin off a photo (photo)
she said she like to see, wanna get me on my dolo (dolo)
i guess that’s life, i guess thats how it’s gotta go-go
[chorus: kid cudi]
and my n-ggas like ooh
bad b-tches like ooh
everybody like ooh
everybody like ooh
and my n-ggas like ooh
my bad b-tches like ooh
everybody like ooh
everybody like ooh

[verse 2: pusha t]
my red solo cup sippers, the blow sniffers with lip fillers
ace of spade flute lifters, we hear the whispers, hopin’ you forgive us
the known dealers, unknown k!llers, fly by in four-wheelers
six-figures on the watches and the chains (uh, uh)
i’m so toxic and obnoxious in my lane (uh, uh)
plain jane for my plain janes
first pj, now we playin’ blame games (ooh)
me and ya man ain’t the same thing
see, i really live up to my name-name
king push with the kid rager, sh-t major
new phases, new pages, new raises
dries sweats on the rod lavers
hauling numbers outta nothing like a times-table
paper comin’ in from angles, we all players
the b-tches come in all flavors
[outro: pusha t]
got everybody like ooh

- kid cudi

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