Letra de Sunday In Brooklyn - Kota the Friend

(Feat. Chanel Loren)

Boy, I look good like fuck, yeah

Shawty look good like brunch, yeah

Soul food, Michelin star, yeah

Ain't nobody cookin' like us, yeah

Ain't nobody cookin' like us

Ain't nobody cookin' like, ain't nobody cookin' like us

Brooklyn, boy, I know touch

Ain't nobody cookin' like us

She just wanna fuck with a real one when it get cold, what you talkin' 'bout?

You ain't talkin' 'bout real shit, she don't really give a fuck, what you talkin' 'bout?

Grew up in the Stuy where them boys on the corner get live, what you talkin' 'bout?

She just wanna dance with her homegirls, she don't even hear what you talkin' 'bout

She feel like home

I did war in the Fort, from the Hill, I rose

We outside [?]

It take a whole lotta soldiers to fill these clothes, we on go (Oh, it's Sunday)

Steppin' outside in the Sunday best, we ain't even gon' flex, just us (Oh, it's Sunday)

Hop in my ride, I ain't checkin' no text, I ain't tryna get stressed, just trust (Oh, it's Sunday)

Hit my line when it's 'bout that time, got work 'til 5, it's rough (Oh, it's Sunday)

Sunday, slide, I'll be at your side right there tryna hype you up like

Girl, you look good, girl, you look good

Girl, you look, girl, you look, girl, you look good

Girl, you look good, girl, you look good (So, so, so good)

Girl, you look, girl, you look, girl, you look good

Boy, I look good like fuck, yeah

Shawty look good like brunch, yeah

Soul food, Michelin star, yeah

Ain't nobody cookin' like us, yeah

Ain't nobody cookin' like us

Ain't nobody cookin' like, ain't nobody cookin' like us

Brooklyn, boy, I know touch

Ain't nobody cookin' like us

Five star, no competition, he's a league of his own (Yeah)

So pure, see us with children cookin' up in the brownstone

He wanna eat me, I'm his favorite snack, I like it when he takes control

Got him along, don't know how to act, island girl done snatched his soul

He can be me easily

Goes by the code, the recipe

Makes me feel oh so pretty

My man, my man, oh (Oh, it's Sunday)

Call me Estelle, he's American (Oh, it's Sunday)

Soft like butter, melt in his hands

There's no other like how he says (Oh, it's Sunday)

Girl, you look good, girl, you look good (So good)

Girl, you look, girl, you look, girl, you look good (Oh, it's Sunday)

Girl, you look good, girl, you look good (Good)

Girl, you look, girl, you look, girl, you look good

Boy, I look good like fuck, yeah

Shawty look good like brunch, yeah

Soul food, Michelin star, yeah

Ain't nobody cookin' like us, yeah

Ain't nobody cookin' like us

Ain't nobody cookin' like, ain't nobody cookin' like us

Brooklyn, boy, I know touch

Ain't nobody cookin' like us, yeah, yeah, yeah

Hot chai in the left hand, baddie on the right hand

She ain't with the trends, she a Mets fan, yeah

She don't want a yes-man, but she wanna hype man

Told her for the job, I'm the best man, yeah

Every winter, get tan, flew her to the islands

Hoppin' in a Benz when the jet land, yeah

We don't got a set plan, we just stay aligned (Alignment, alignment)

In alignment and ready for the next jam, yeah (Oh)

Made it back home

Pop, pop, pop, gotta stay on my toes

Dot, dot, dot, for the day, I'm on low

For the day, I'm on goes, do not hit me, no, no, yeah (No, no)

We could stay in for the day, what you talkin' 'bout?

We could pop out, let 'em know what we talkin' 'bout

Girl, you look good, girl, you look good

Girl, you look, girl, you look, girl, you look good

Girl, you look good, girl, you look good (I know)

Girl, you look, girl, you look, girl, you look good (Oh, it's Sunday)

Boy, I look good like fuck, yeah

Shawty look good like brunch, yeah (Oh, it's Sunday)

Soul food, Michelin star, yeah

Ain't nobody cookin' like us, yeah (Oh, it's Sunday)

Ain't nobody cookin' like us

Ain't nobody cookin' like, ain't nobody cookin' like us (Oh, it's Sunday)

Brooklyn, boy, I know touch

Ain't nobody cookin' like us, yeah, yeah, yeah

That's what I'm talkin' about, ayy

They gon' love this vibe

Got me feelin' like I'm in Stuy

Natural hair, 5'2" thick joint in a sundress

That's the energy we need, ayy, no rap on Sunday

Keep it comin', cuzzo, simple

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