Letra de New Type - Summer Walker

(Feat. ["Childish Gambino"])

I'm feelin' on these silk sheets

And I'm feelin' up these silk sheets

With legs (Legs), hips (Hips), thighs (Thighs), ass (Ass)

I'm feelin' on these silk sheets

Oh, I'm feelin' so alone

Wish I had a man to make me whole, whole

Turn this big ass house into a home, home

And I, I'm watchin' my cellphone ring

Watchin' my shit light up

I got hood niggas blowin' me up, I

I, I, I, I, I

Not tonight, tonight, tonight

I got a new type, new type, new type

New type

Trick daddy lookin' motherfucker

Swear 'fore God I never wanna see another

Hoes on the top, on the bottom, way up under

Arguin' on the phone with your ugly baby mother

Sleepin' on the couch of the house of your mother (No)

You can't live with me so won't you try and find another?

Fuckin' round with me, you gon' end up on your own

Have your stuff out on the street, won't you go and call Tyrone-rone?

I know I'm ugly but I'm interesting, you know I'm flirtin' with ya (Oh)

You want the perfect picture, no filter, simple livin'

Simpin', always listen, guilt him so there's no suspicion

Low ambition, wanna live his life without my BM in my DM saying Junior miss him

I show up with a happy meal, your attitude ain't happy

You tell my son his daddy broke, he hear you laughin' at me

(Nigga, get the fuck outta here with that broke ass McDonald's)

I'm from around the way, your cousin went to Abernathy

I knew you when your wig ain't had no lace, I loved you nappy

Girl, now why you cappin'? That ass ain't yours, I can't afford, I'm waitin' on my taxes

But you look good, been on your Erykah, I drive through Texas

You said to call Tyrone, you know they booked him in January

I'm doin' 9 to 5, he wanna eat off my commissary

You want me doin' life, I'm not the type to wife

And call me triflin' but I ain't no

Trick daddy lookin' motherfucker

Swear 'fore God I never wanna see another

Hoes on the top, on the bottom, way up under

Arguin' on the phone with your ugly baby mother (No)

Sleepin' on the couch of the house of your mother

You can't live with me so won't you try and find another?

Fuckin' round with me, you gon' end up on your own

Have your stuff out on the street, won't you go and call Tyrone-rone?

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