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letra de million years - ronin (phonk)

(ay, what’s going on here?)

ayy, i’m back in the cycle, feel like a psycho, feel like i’m michael, yuh
don’t look at my bread, don’t look at my whip, take a look at my fico, yuh
i’m pacin’ and thinkin’ of robbin’ a bank with the homies i hang with
these hoes wanna make it, the bank or the banquet
come hang with the gang, get shady
drunk drive in a mercedes, four-five on the hip daily
screamin’ out, “f-ck you pay me”
i ain’t patient, i got ocd
feel like i’m not controllin’ me
still them hoes gon’ fall for me
p-ssy that they offer me is often not too luxury
but let me see what that l!ck read
triple digits in the six-speed
think i fell in love when that b-tch hit me
i might f-ck around and bust her down
and buy a bentley for that b-tch
while you was f-cking with them lames, i made my baby mama rich

baby, play with my d-ck, not my emotions
shed so many tears that i could fill an ocean
we was coastin’, now we roller coastin’
look inside my eyes and feel the pain that you put on me
i just pray to peep that you don’t leave me lonely
thousand b-tches but they can’t do nothin’ for me
you my one and only
i know you need some company so come on over
do you love me, do you love exposure?
ayy, man, pouya, man, i got you, man
tell these hoes, “shut the f-ck up,” yeah

check this pimpin’, gotta watch these women, they catfish (they catfish)
and it look like meech in the club every time i come through tippin’ (big meech)
drop that bag, maybe two or three, that’s if she different (drop a bag)
wanna come back, i got that sack, it look like christmas (backend)
she down to f-ck, you tryna cuff, my nig’, good luck, ayy (you trippin’)
this ain’t no robbery but my b-tch is stuck up, ayy (my b-tch bad)
she bad as f-ck, well like what’s in my cup
she the quicker picker upper, i’m loving the way she suck, ayy (pick me up)
she call me jay (yeah, ho), i call her bae (yeah, ho)
we ain’t the carters but that rock all in your face (it’s the rock)
these b-tches thirsty but these hoes ain’t got no taste (ain’t got no taste)
it’s cuffin’ season, man, these hoes finna get replaced any day, ayy
f-ck, well like what’s in my cup
she the quicker picker upper, i’m loving the way she suck, ayy (pick me up)
she call me jay (yeah, ho), i call her bae (yeah, ho)
we ain’t the carters but that rock all in your face (it’s the rock)
these b-tches thirsty but these hoes ain’t got no taste (ain’t got no taste)
it’s cuffin’ season, man, these hoes finna get replaced any day, ayy

(ay, what’s going on here?)

- ronin phonk

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