F4U Songtext
von Bryson Tiller
F4U Songtext
Said I′m fiendin' for you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you
(He′s heatin' up)
Yeah
You know, they say it's always gon′ be a badder bitch, for some reason, that don′t apply to you
I can't even lie to you, these bitches bad, but just not as fine as you
They lookin′ at me like, "How come I'm not outside with you?"
They lookin′ at me like, "Who gon' make this nigga fold?"
Walkin′ all in my line of sight, tryna find out who I'ma like
Let me show it to you
Let me hit her phone
Baby, hoes in here doin' pick and rolls
I know I said I was out with the bros, but I need you to go put different clothes on (come outside)
I don′t know the difference between Swiss and provolone
But I know the difference between my bitch and these hoes
She got a nigga cheesin′
Not for any reason other than
She borderline comedian
Stay on her lane while these bitches drive on the median (damn)
Like it's 2012, I′m swervin' this ho, and I mean it (swerve)
I′m showin' no mercy to hoes and I mean it
It′s only you in this black Lamborghini
I feel like Bruce Wayne but I need a Selina
Done want a Batman, you happy to see it
Just give me that cat, and I'm happy to eat it
I'm mad at you teasin′ me
These bitches, they lack what I′m needin'
Let′s keep it a rack, they not half of what she is, I swear
Won't be no mackin′ for me
And I swear, won't be no casualties
And I swear, she a killer if he in the middle and move to the right
Twist to the center, my truest delight
I cannot be sleazy, provin′ her right
Nah, huh
Better know I ain't come in here to go back and forth with no stare-downs, baby
'Cause- (said I′m fiendin′ for you)
And my roster's just, you like eight or nine
Different hairstyles, baby (said I′m fiendin' for you)
Well, if it′s braided now
Or hair down, maybe, or curly or straight
You switch it up year-round
Two-strand twist, it ain't fair, now, baby (said I′m fiendin' for you)
Chill
Hahaha, nah, for real, you gotta chill (you look good in everything you put on)
Chill out, you got all these bitches mad in here (I'm fiendin′ for you)
But I only see you, so it don′t really matter for real
Believe that (for real, huh)
(He′s heatin' up)
Yeah
You know, they say it's always gon′ be a badder bitch, for some reason, that don′t apply to you
I can't even lie to you, these bitches bad, but just not as fine as you
They lookin′ at me like, "How come I'm not outside with you?"
They lookin′ at me like, "Who gon' make this nigga fold?"
Walkin′ all in my line of sight, tryna find out who I'ma like
Let me show it to you
Let me hit her phone
Baby, hoes in here doin' pick and rolls
I know I said I was out with the bros, but I need you to go put different clothes on (come outside)
I don′t know the difference between Swiss and provolone
But I know the difference between my bitch and these hoes
She got a nigga cheesin′
Not for any reason other than
She borderline comedian
Stay on her lane while these bitches drive on the median (damn)
Like it's 2012, I′m swervin' this ho, and I mean it (swerve)
I′m showin' no mercy to hoes and I mean it
It′s only you in this black Lamborghini
I feel like Bruce Wayne but I need a Selina
Done want a Batman, you happy to see it
Just give me that cat, and I'm happy to eat it
I'm mad at you teasin′ me
These bitches, they lack what I′m needin'
Let′s keep it a rack, they not half of what she is, I swear
Won't be no mackin′ for me
And I swear, won't be no casualties
And I swear, she a killer if he in the middle and move to the right
Twist to the center, my truest delight
I cannot be sleazy, provin′ her right
Nah, huh
Better know I ain't come in here to go back and forth with no stare-downs, baby
'Cause- (said I′m fiendin′ for you)
And my roster's just, you like eight or nine
Different hairstyles, baby (said I′m fiendin' for you)
Well, if it′s braided now
Or hair down, maybe, or curly or straight
You switch it up year-round
Two-strand twist, it ain't fair, now, baby (said I′m fiendin' for you)
Chill
Hahaha, nah, for real, you gotta chill (you look good in everything you put on)
Chill out, you got all these bitches mad in here (I'm fiendin′ for you)
But I only see you, so it don′t really matter for real
Believe that (for real, huh)
Writer(s): Roger Troutman, Bryson Tiller, Terry Troutman, Ernest Eugene Brown Iii, Don Degrate Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com