Don't Matter Songtext
von Isaiah Rashad
Don't Matter Songtext
Fake, fake, fake, feel me
(Hey)
Fake, fake
(Hey)
Fake, fake, fake, fake
(Hey, hey)
My shit go good with your mouth, don′t it feel good?
It's a number 3, buckle up
Got to the scene it was bonafide pocket book
And cause you hide all my secrets from that bitch
They keep callin′ your phone, I know he hate it
But the comet go
Keep us in tune and my hooker got another show
I'm on the road just to see if I can make it back
With just a scar and a carcass and a flaw
Like God and his kids
I know you hate us but it's nothin′ else
They told me that I had to see it for my fuckin′ self
And if I make to the gates and he don't recognize
That I had all the traits of greatness and the starlight at my feet
So don′t you take me to the preacher
Cause I might testify ay
Baby today
I might testify someday
Get it on my way
And I'm just a boy
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, haha, yeah
And I ain′t done with your mouth
Say that as good as a number 3
Want some more, you got away with the tongue in cheek
Never seen, I know the code to your body
And the road to the vision is all communication
And we bust a nut
I left a stain in your inner part
You let it go
I know the words to your favorite
We know everything
But I don't have time for you baby
I am all for the profit, I am past my self-destruction
But you bring it back
I got a line for you waitin′ in my Cadillac
Cause you describe all the symptoms of a common fiend
You said you read to the fire
It was good with the preacher and all the congregation
Would you testify?
I guess he at it again like
I guess he at it again like
I guess he at it again like
Let me put your knees to your chest and get ready
Let me put your knees to your chest and get ready
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, pimps, pimps, ah
Huh, huh, huh
Huh, huh, huh
Everybody's invited
Everybody
(Hey)
Fake, fake
(Hey)
Fake, fake, fake, fake
(Hey, hey)
My shit go good with your mouth, don′t it feel good?
It's a number 3, buckle up
Got to the scene it was bonafide pocket book
And cause you hide all my secrets from that bitch
They keep callin′ your phone, I know he hate it
But the comet go
Keep us in tune and my hooker got another show
I'm on the road just to see if I can make it back
With just a scar and a carcass and a flaw
Like God and his kids
I know you hate us but it's nothin′ else
They told me that I had to see it for my fuckin′ self
And if I make to the gates and he don't recognize
That I had all the traits of greatness and the starlight at my feet
So don′t you take me to the preacher
Cause I might testify ay
Baby today
I might testify someday
Get it on my way
And I'm just a boy
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, haha, yeah
And I ain′t done with your mouth
Say that as good as a number 3
Want some more, you got away with the tongue in cheek
Never seen, I know the code to your body
And the road to the vision is all communication
And we bust a nut
I left a stain in your inner part
You let it go
I know the words to your favorite
We know everything
But I don't have time for you baby
I am all for the profit, I am past my self-destruction
But you bring it back
I got a line for you waitin′ in my Cadillac
Cause you describe all the symptoms of a common fiend
You said you read to the fire
It was good with the preacher and all the congregation
Would you testify?
I guess he at it again like
I guess he at it again like
I guess he at it again like
Let me put your knees to your chest and get ready
Let me put your knees to your chest and get ready
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, fingertips, masturbate
Alright pimps, hoes, pimps, pimps, ah
Huh, huh, huh
Huh, huh, huh
Everybody's invited
Everybody
Writer(s): Tyran Levon Donaldson, Carter Lang, Isaiah Rashad Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com