taste.buds - j.robb lyrics
[verse 1: tyga from “taste”]
slide on a pimp game with my pinky ring
lotta gang, lotta b-tches, and a icy chain
why you claim that you rich? that’s a false claim
i be straight to the whip, no baggage claim
whole lotta styles, can’t even pr-nounce the name
you ain’t got no style, see you on my instagram
i be rockin’ it like it’s fresh out the pan
only when i’m takin’ pics, i’m the middleman
walk, talk it like a boss, i just lift a hand
three million cash, call me rain man
money like a shower, that’s my rain dance
and we all in black, like it’s gangland
say the wrong words, you be hangman
watch me stick to your b-tch like a spray tan
aw, mr. what-kind-of-car-he-in?
and the city love my name, n-gg-, i ain’t gotta say it
[chorus: tyga from “taste”]
(taste, taste), she can get a taste
(taste, taste), she can get a taste
(taste, taste), f-ck what a n-gg- say
it’s all the same like mary-kate
[verse 2: tyga from “taste”]
lotta girls like me, n-gg-s wanna fight me
n-gg-, get your -ss checked like a f-ckin’ nike
me not icy, that’s unlikely
and she gon’ suck me like a f-ckin’ hi-c
aw, chains on the neck for the whole team
and i feel like gucci with the ice cream
and my b-tch want the fenty, not the maybelline
i’m the black jb, the way these b-tches scream
make these b-tches scream
ah, pretty little thing
like my n-gg- a.e
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