Don’t hit me past one ’cause I might come
Poppin’ on your voicemail goin’ dumb
If it’s past two, I can’t look at you (f*ck it)
But I will ’cause you’re too true
Too real for the waters, how you make me puke
No-no-no-no, hey, I still f*ck with you
It’s good luck, when I’m like, “Oh, what’s up with you?”
Wrist, wrist, wrist, whippin’ in the car with you.
Whippin’ in the car with you, you, you. (x10)
Phone lit, past three, see you say what’s up
F*ckboy, thought I told you not to hit me up
I got a problem and it sucks, boy
O.T., I’m in love with the f*ckboys
I’m just bein’ real, can I keep it real?
Way too many feels, way too many feels
Chanel bag, cop it, I don’t f*ckin’ want it
I don’t need that bullsh*t in your wallet.
Whippiiin’ in the car with you, you, you. (x10)
Whippiiin’ in the car with you, you, you
You, you, you, youuu.