Poppin’ on your voicemail goin’ dumb
You, you, you, youuu.
F*ckboy, thought I told you not to hit me up
O.T., I’m in love with the f*ckboys
I’m just bein’ real, can I keep it real?
If it’s past two, I can’t look at you (f*ck it)
Chanel bag, cop it, I don’t f*ckin’ want it
Wrist, wrist, wrist, whippin’ in the car with you.
I don’t need that bullsh*t in your wallet.
Don’t hit me past one ’cause I might come
No-no-no-no, hey, I still f*ck with you
Whippiiin’ in the car with you, you, you
Phone lit, past three, see you say what’s up
Way too many feels, way too many feels
I got a problem and it sucks, boy
It’s good luck, when I’m like, “Oh, what’s up with you?”
Too real for the waters, how you make me puke
(x10) Whippin’ in the car with you, you, you.
Whippiiin’ in the car with you, you, you. (x10)
But I will ’cause you’re too true