I’m gettin’ hot, I’m for real bro, sweatin’ and sh#t, I’m bothered
I was-I was in the airfryer or the microwave (Ha ha ha)
This life here, I’m a vibe pioneer
Flight to Budapest, private jet lear
Message me at the tone, gettin’ dome, hard to steer
f#cking in the mirror, she be wearing mickey ears
I’m a double entendre, King Kong conqueror
Slide on the beat like Jesus on water
Since I was a niño, swear my life bonkers
Top hat swag, velvet jacket, Willy Wonka
But I haven’t sweat in centuries
D’usse shots, blood pumpin’, John Kennedy
Big bag don’t be mad at me
Kid went pop, now the wrist got vanity
I don’t think y’all understanding me
Three car garage, four cars, a calamity
No caveats, at the restaurant casually
New Kids Bop, new rich identity
Put it on the pinky ring
Ladies say, “gotdamn”
Pause on the gemstones
Jim Jones, robbed em’
Rolled and I slipped blows
Rose outta Gotham
Hoes and the nymphos
Oh man I got them
Boogy to the beat
Lil’ buddy lend a ear
Liquor before beer
Baby bubba then you’re clear
You could have it all
A Givenchy chandelier
Live a hundred years, if you never live in fear
But I haven’t sweat in centuries
D’usse shots, blood pumpin’, John Kennedy
Big bag don’t be mad at me
Kid went pop, now the wrist got vanity
I don’t think y’all understanding me
Three car garage, four cars, a calamity
No caveats, at the restaurant casually
New Kids Bop, new rich identity
Doug Dimmadome
Went and bought an El Camino
Used to know a chump, got wrapped by the prenup
Know a couple chaps, got wrapped by a female
Me I can’t do that, get back, no subpoenas
Got a bubba on my wrist, it look sick when I’m at the keynote
No Adidas on my feet, no no never no NMD ho
No opinions, nah uh
We know we on the way to the final
I do keto, get aminos, I’m built like a superhero
Dom Pérignon please, I’m dining at Francine
A couple of more drinks, they taking my car keys
Like Jesus, I don’t need respect, just believers
Long as in the end they spend 10 on a t-shirt
One little b#tch, I’m doing it full time
Two needa rinse, I’m covered in court fines
Three with the clique, a fit, and some pork rinds
Four in the mix, we gettin’ lit, oh God
But I haven’t sweat in centuries
D’usse shots, blood pumpin’, John Kennedy
Big bag don’t be mad at me
Kid went pop, now the wrist got vanity
I don’t think y’all understanding me
Three car garage, four cars, a calamity
No caveats, at the restaurant casually
New Kids Bop, new rich identity
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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Pertinence – Time Flies
Pertinence – Tapped in
Pertinence Lyrics – WILLY WONKA