Текст песни Style & Pattern - Miss LaFamilia

Style & Pattern

Yeah, yeah
Lord know
DTG
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Know
Yeah, yeah
I’m a real boss lady, I’m moves
I was up late night, tryna make my cake right, never walk a mile in my shoes
You was on date night, I was serving great whites, finesse the trap,
that’s a real money move
Ay, and I ain’t no Cardi, I grew up nasty, I had to choose
Nothing ain’t sweet in Birmingham town, just know it goes down, just check the
news
Uh, niggas call me for the one drop, call me Griselda, I’ve got the
Answer the Lyca, link behind Topshop
I was in the drop-top, summertime, hot rocks, don’t stop
Ends on flames so I had to switch lanes, Jakes dem try make the fun stop
Nothing to gain but myself to blame, I guess it’s the game I was knee-deep on
top
Uh, and this shit gets better
Silence with spinners, we holding Berettas
Hot on the roads so I roll with my wetter
Bitches don’t try me, them problems all get her
Queen of the town and my drip game icy
I’m not surprised that these bitches don’t like me
Whipping the Pyrex, food come pricey
Trapped in the bando with roaches and mices
Style and pattern
We make tings move, whoosh
I might go Hatton
And make my neck flood
We don’t do chatting
That’s not in the text book
Don’t mean to be bragging
But I think I’m next up
Style and pattern
We make tings move, whoosh
I might go Hatton
And make my neck flood
We don’t do chatting
That’s not in the text book
Don’t mean to be bragging
But I think I’m next up
I’ma diss everything that’ll stand in my way
If you think you’ve got it then come we go play
Don’t miss the days I was
But I’ve seen the storm and I brightened the day
And the packs dem coming like parcels
Phone line blazing, giving out bargains
Fed stopped the whip and he stare at my tits
No further action, the dirty bastard
Uh, left two packs with Suzie
Went 'bout my business, told her 'Don't lose it'
Cats expensive choosey
They’re staying loyal, they’re copping my foodies
Admit I’m not perfect, I’ve made it worth it
I’ma stay real 'til I die in my grave
Holding it down and I’m clearing the circuit
I cannot let a bitch jump on my wave
Uh, and this shit gets better
Silence with spinners, we holding Berettas
Hot on the roads so I roll with my wetter
Bitches don’t try me, them problems all get her
Queen of the town and my drip game icy
I’m not surprised that these bitches don’t like me
Whipping the Pyrex, food come pricey
Trapped in the bando with roaches and mices
Style and pattern
We make tings move, whoosh
I might go Hatton
And make my neck flood
We don’t do chatting
That’s not in the text book
Don’t mean to be bragging
But I think I’m next up
Style and pattern
We make tings move, whoosh
I might go Hatton
And make my neck flood
We don’t do chatting
That’s not in the text book
Don’t mean to be bragging
But I think I’m next up