Romaine Lyrics

Ayy, lil' baby, is that your nigga, why you entertainin' him

That nigga is a weirdo, so I had to flame him

Her nigga is a lame, she don't really wanna claim him

She be outta pocket when she degrades him

Now all of this game, she tryna soak up

I spoke up and said, I don't deal with broke sluts

Lil' baby, please don't get your hopes up

She was hella sad, damn near choked up

I talk my shit, if she damn near threw a fit

A band for my fit, yeah, she finna let me hit

Lil' baby really knows that I'm the flyest

She can't deny this, we're pourin' drink at the Hyatt

That pussy was the tightest when I tried it

Fuckin' her rough and tellin' her to be quiet

Puttin' in that work to make that bitch squirt

What's the perks of sellin' what's under your skirt

Ooh, poppin' all this izm for a ho's brain

I can really show you that I know things

I'm really bout my lettuce, my romaine

Baby, I'ma need the trap, yeah, the whole thing

Poppin' all this izm for a ho's brain

I can really show you that I know things

I'm really bout my lettuce, my romaine

Baby, I'ma need the trap, yeah, the whole thing