Correction Paroles My Phone par Tom MacDonald

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Paroles

Half the fammo in the kitchen
Half the fammo on the road
We don't need to hit the strippers
To get some b*t*hes on the pole
I got b*t*hes on my phone
I got b*t*hes on my phone
Yeah, I got b*t*hes on my phone
I got b*t*hes on my phone

Uh, layin' on the 25th floor with her
Way above the city poppin' bottles with the gold sticker
Friends are heading over from the beach
In the new Ranger Rove', got the heat inside the seats
Lil' takeout, lil' t**ties, lil' weed
Big booty, big bag with the little LV on it
I'm growin' up in the suburbs drunk
She growin' up in the city wasted
We come together but we both came from different places
Whoop, I'm turnt up, she turnt out
She work hard, we work out, I flirt and she twerk out
She into makin' love but she's not really down for f**kin'
Told me that she got a man but they are done now, f**k it

Throw some ones at it
Man, I am so high, you could see forever if you looked into my eyes
Dreamin' 'bout the poolsides, future rides
Cars that don't go to heaven, doors suicide

And they love me
They twerkin' like they makin' some money
But they don't
They just some real b*t*hes
Hoppin' for a few of the homies
Then they gone
And they holler, they holler like I'm holding some money
But I don't
They just some real b*t*hes
They know I bring 'em round for my homies
I got b*t*hes on my phone
I got b*t*hes on my phone
I got b*t*hes on my phone
Yeah, I got b*t*hes on my phone
I got b*t*hes on my phone
Yeah, I got b*t*hes on my phone
I got b*t*hes on my phone
Yeah, I got b*t*hes on my phone
I got b*t*hes on my phone
Yeah, I ain't sweatin' that everyone tryna sun me
Shades darker than the shade from the money tree
Uh, I got a taste for imported booze
The champagne is from France, and I order two
Whole crew tied up with some fine b*t*hes
And we bringin' 'em to our zone, what you know about time difference?
Nine hours if you call in London
Eight hours if you call in Paris
Hookin' up with model b*t*hes
Then leaving them for hotter b*t*hes
Leaving them for hotter b*t*hes
Then leaving them for hotter b*t*hes
Uh, I got b*t*hes on my phone
And I'm trippin' cause b*t*hes just won't leave me alone
Uh, I'm steppin' on my work ups
Tryna stack a third cup
Swisher gettin' burnt up, the hoes gettin' turnt up
My Lord, chillin' with some halfies gettin' perms done
They thought I was the sweetest till all of them bodies turned up

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