Taste Baby Lyrics

Top shelf production, bitch

Harry Bake, motherfucker

Yo

The smell of blood in the air haunting me

Why don't we just get a little taste, baby

The world is my wallet, the universe in my hand

It's right before me and you really don't understand

Badass the world, cuz life that I'm living

No commentary, my man, I came out swinging

Creating the illest shit is what you could call my business

But I need your faith in me

I'm a sucker for love

I've been illest a lot, cuz I embody the sickness

Wish your nigga's father understood where the condom was

Making love to the streets

Baby loves them for bread

Choices make it pointless finding things in my bed

Fucking church slut, well, not really

She just slurped nuts

Big pretend my speaker

Game all low

I never beat with ducks

Lids up, his eyes up

Show him big burning balls, bitch

Pull up, I wanna start it with enough white to kill a white horse

Yeah

In that Maybach, let me take him way back

Leave him with their heads in a knapsack

Set fire to a bag

Gonna leave my nuts inside

And tell that hoe ain't no coming back

Big tits and a big ass

Gotta make that cash

My mom's screaming at me

I sliced off her tits and said, listen, bitch, quit having fits

Came in, walked up, and said, to the corner

I got your bitch on my dick

I'll go and tease her

Life's a water park

It could be fun

Let your bitch use the cornerstone

Those privileged fucks got to learn that we ain't taking no shit

Why you still acting like a bitch on a period

Play with your toys, play with your blocks

And all these peasant motherfuckers take shots at my cock

Yo mama, ugly tits are filled with grape-flavored silicone

Drinking mint food

Your siblings in a ditch

What is your girl

I call her my dome bitch

The smell of blood in the air haunting me

Why don't you get a little taste, baby

The world is my wallet

The universe is my hand

His wife, he fuck with me

And he don't understand medical work

Cause the life that I live ain't no competition

My man, I come in swinging, printing the illest shit

His wife, he could call my business

But I need your faith in me

I'm a sucker for love

I'm this alive cause I'm party to sickness

When it's you niggas who bother

Understand where the corner was

Making love to the street

Daily lusting for bread

Toys to make appointments

Hiding things in my bed

Top shelf production

TSP, bitch

Harry baking his motherfucker

Yeah, okay

Fucking hoe