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roll call - wynne lyrics

[voicemail from wynne’s father]
hey beandip
driving home…
you put this song out, i listened to a little bit of it
i wasn’t quite gettin it, so i called your brother
and he said it’s really good
i go, “it is?”
he goes, “yeah, it’s really good.”
so, anyway
if you miss me, send me a letter

thelonious…

[wynne]
woo!

[verse 1]
i’m just tryna stay on point like it’s ballet
you could never buy my spot it’s not valet
you can never steal my spot i’m no dalmay-
you could never reach my spot you’re still a mile away
child wait –
get your mittens off my cookie jar
the p-ssy playin hooky you can’t catch it like a pokémon
you’re the hare, i’m the tortoise tryna hold you off
even if you’re fast you can’t fake the race, rachel dolezal
ooh!
shots
ooh!
round’s on me, wait–
ooh!
stop no chaser on three
one for the homies, two for the past, three for the lipstick print you can leave on my -ss
i know that they miss me, they ain’t gotta like it
like when they were stalking my page
and then accidentally liked it
that’s how i know, little drop in the oc’
it’s a yacht, not a boat
she’s a god, not a pope
what’s a crop to a goat
or a blo to ‘c-sso
or a dodge to ‘lago
or a dart to a bow
what’s a prop to a throne when you’re not going home
’til you got the parliament on the motherf-ckin phone
i’m not here for playdates or wait-waits or raw steaks
if i’m gonna dip my toe in at the pool i’ll buy the whole place
and open it up to everybody ‘cuz i’m not keeping score
‘cuz i’ve got the privilege man i’m opening the door
and that’s what’s wrong with white pride
y’all can’t admit it
you didn’t work for your skin color or d-ck
that sh-t was given to ya
hallelujah!
on sundays i praise the truth
tell itay raise the mic in the room ‘cuz i’m feeling 6’2″
you b-tch you, i’m on top
making big moves in a crystal
when i whistle it’s a big tune
might miss one i don’t miss two
if i kiss you might forget you
when i switch dudes i’m a b-tch, boo
spit pistols, i’m not talking packing heat like an igloo
i’m lethal, welcome to my house of pain, b-tch
woah, too close you get burnt like a blank disc
wait, woah
this is as bad as the bad gets, oh no
for my sisters who stuck as a waitress, i know
you don’t really wanna jump ship, grab rope
you gon’ wanna witness this sh-t, lord knows
i’m at the top of the waitlist let’s go
first i graduate then i’m making these hits, boy!

- wynne lyrics

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