More songs by Bryson Tiller
More songs by Rick Ross
Description
Associated Performer: Bryson Tiller feat. Rick Ross
Composer, Associated Performer, Lyricist: Bryson Tiller
Associated Performer: Rick Ross
Composer, Lyricist: Christopher T. Justice
Lyricist, Composer: William Roberts
Producer: Gravez
Mixing Engineer, Mastering Engineer: Mike Seaberg
Assistant Engineer: Chris Bhikoo
Lyrics and translation
Original
Brace yourself, take your time, this shit is not a diss.
Make your mind up, don't make no time for him at my expense.
You see, I know you fine shit, you put on shit that's timeless. Like Chanel from nine-six, some YSL how it's clicking.
We step inside the Baccarat Hotel, them diamonds glistening. Hit Casablanca in
Morocco doing high-end shit.
Biggest yacht I copped, the helicopter's how I spin shit. I ain't make the shit to not spend shit.
But then you pop your shit and do it with Versace lipstick and I got defensive.
To me, this shit is cheap, but time expensive. I gave you more and learned my lesson.
Poor me, but you my blessing. I'm stressing, still get you that Hermès Kelly. We used to shop at the
Forevers, talk about forever.
You gon' look twenty-one forever, gon' be hot forever. Doing shit, ain't gotta ask me, I spend that not forever.
New nigga gon' get his ass beat, I do it acapella.
Sign his jot to Roc-A-Fella, thinking he gon' stunt on my expense. Touch the Cullinan, I cut him on some culinary shit.
Tryna step on shit, no red bottoms, Bloody Mary shit.
You care about him, tell him cut it, all that fucking arrogance.
Shh, earn shit, rapping like Cardinal, earn shit, rest in peace. I want candy paint my whip, I'm very rich, embarrassing how I just. . .
I just keep giving you more.
But I try to find solace through my vices when we split. Put a shiesty on her, try to find my wifey in the strip club.
I know that ain't like Bryson, but I had to write that hit, turn tricks.
Looking at me like, "Boy, you ain't learn shit.
" But then my earnings triple, what I learned was just be earnest with 'em. And it's working, huh? I can finally go get you that Birkin.
I can finally get you that whip that you been asking for, that trip that you been asking for, but you still tripping off the last hoe.
I ain't even come ask who you last smashed, I detached from you.
Left it in the past when I put you through the mattress. Took you back to Saks Fifth, spent racks on you, these facts here.
Motherfuck last year, let's punt that through the stratosphere.
All I see is mad tears, trust, I understand the feel.
I can't let it shake me, why the fuck you think I'm standing here? I miss hugging you up under restoration chandeliers, and
I'm manicured without you, and that's. . .
Well, that's the best way I could put it, for real.
Big bags, I keep the static to the minimum.
Love money, I'm a fanatic for them envelopes. H slide, she got Hermès in her bag too.
Minnie Kelly, it's time to show you how that bag move. Shaking ass, she love to post, but she never tag.
Not a drinker, it's mocktails for a faking ass.
Close friends, I know she telling my dick her down. You looking thicker now, girl, you make a nigga proud.
Call up the dope boys, it's time to get a different crowd.
You need some new toys and I'm tryna get 'em now. Van Cleef, only flowers that'll never die. I could never be the biggest if
I never try. We could never get to Venice if we never fly.
I won't get to see the heavens if I never die. Armarni coats all white, we out in Italy.
Look what it did to me, real nigga tendencies. Fast cars, thousand acres in the backyard.
I got my own dealership, now tell 'em that part.
Time to order twenty bottles on my black card. Supermodels taking pictures with a rap star.
We know the envy 'cause we came up from the asphalt. These niggas passed off, hating was the last straw.
Maybach
Music.