Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Sonido


Interfaz


Nivel de dificultad


Acento



lenguaje de interfaz

es

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Política de cookies   |   Apoyo   |   FAQ
1
registro de inicio de sesión
Lyrkit

donar

5$

Lyrkit

donar

10$

Lyrkit

donar

20$

Lyrkit

Y/o apoyarme en las redes sociales. redes:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Babyface Ray

It Ain't My Fault

 

It Ain't My Fault


Yeah
Silly-ass, fucking run up, smacking up
Yeah (Hit-Boy)

It ain't my fault I got that glow and I can't get it off me
It ain't my fault these niggas ain't solid and they moving faulty
It ain't my fault I'm rocking Ricky, keep that blicky on me
It ain't my fault when I pop out, nothing less than fifty on me

It ain't my fault that they got shifty on me
Tony Hawk, I'm used to niggas getting tricky on me
Party pack, told her, "Take that," went Diddy on her
Trackhawk, I hit the pedal, three-sixty on 'em
Ain't my fault my back got the whole city on it
Ain't my fault my back got the whole city on it

Keep the thriller close, I'm protecting my energy
My advice to you, don't become my enemy
Groupies grab me at my shows, so I know that they feeling me
I just left 'em in her throat, girl, you know ain't no kissing me, yeah
In the trenches rocking Sean Bape, your shawty wild (For real)
I was quick to slam her like DeAndre

It ain't my fault you got your shit snatched
It ain't my fault you had no money, go get your shit back
It ain't my fault I drew the blueprint, now I'm living that
Naomi Osaka's arena, we serving and playing with big racks
Got the baddest face down, ass up
Since I got my tax up, the most you ever made in your life
I done made, forgot about, and had it stashed up
Simple niggas simping over bitches I done passed up

Real niggas going out of style, feel like the last one
I got my bag up, ain't sit around when I ain't have much
I fuck on your ho, hop out the bed and turn my swag on
Ain't no more humble shit, I'm popping shit, I'm popping tags on 'em, nigga

It ain't my fault I got that glow and I can't get it off me
It ain't my fault these niggas ain't solid and they moving faulty
It ain't my fault I'm rocking Ricky, keep that blicky on me
It ain't my fault when I pop out, nothing less than fifty on me

H-H-Hit-Boy on the beat, so bitch, so you gotta go berserk

Got expensive taste, still a hood nigga
Pints in the cabinet, lights, camera, action
I'ma keep a cup full when them cameras flashing
Give my niggas hope, I feel like a pastor
Wanna live like me? You might have to chance it
No, I don't need no tip, boy, my diamonds dancing
Brodie told me 'bout you, bitch, yeah, acting classy
Yeah, I heard about you, know you heard about us
All my lil' niggas shoot, feel like Curry father (Pew)
If I want it, then I get it, Timmy Turner problems

Cameras on me like I'm walking out the trial
I'm up thirty fucking million, she gon' want the child
Tax bracket out of reach, I ain't reaching out
NBA-type NDAs, ain't shit leaking out
Remembering all the love you bitch-ass niggas never showed
And a heart on one below
And you niggas came up out the mud and didn't even grow
Tunnel vision, carpal tunnel, niggas politicking
What the fuck you running for?
Whip came with a ticket, valet keys
She gon' cheat for LA breeze
I'm with Babyface, I feel like L.A. Reid

I'm with Sean Don, no Dom Perignon, bitch, it's lean
Push to start, foreign hit it, that bitch fart, what's a key?
They keep telling me to keep this shit a hundred, I'm a G
From the dirty glove, gotta keep it on you in the streets
What more can I say?
Promise you I'm lying if I say I ain't in the A
Keep them squares out your circle, so we flick 'em through the day
Trust me, old friends hating on a nigga, bitches love me
Hands all dirty in the field like it's rugby
Gang ties, mafioso like I'm Lucky Luciano
Pints coming in from Philly, so I rock Milano

Americano, M's stack on top of M's, shit look like McDonald's
I don't need a Kim K, I need Griselda Blanco
All my niggas on they John Wick and leave you John Doe

hecho

¿Agregaste todas las palabras desconocidas de esta canción?