Kishore Kumar Hits

Caliph - Pilates lyrics

Artist: Caliph

album: Immigrant Of The Year


I'm with your shorty
Boy I got so much drive she sittin' shotty
Homeboy in the back he got the shotty
Between him and I we catchin' bodies
We catchin' bodies
She do Pilates, I catch a body
You do karate, he catch a body
She do Pilates, I catch a body
You do karate, he catch a body
Where you at?
You send a text, she don't answer, bet you wait for that
She hit you on her own time you quick to take her back
And when she need something boy I bet you pay for that
Boy you a slave for that
Shorty out here pimpin' niggas
She get her way of what she want from all you simpin' niggas
Thats cause she know you payin' way too much attention nigga
So when she change up, you don't get the difference nigga
It's quite simple nigga
She don't bring that shit to me
Oh that's your girl well, she didn't say that shit to Liph
She be in my DMs sending private snaps and nasty tings
She a nasty ting
Type to call a nigga papi ting
Wine pon di cocky ting
Until the party done
No party done
This shit is poppin' son
So she still riding pon di cocky cause
She know I'm cocky son
But she ain't talkin' bout no confidence
She know I'm African
That's why she pop pop and drop it son
Until the party done
And when the party done
I'm with your shorty
Boy I got so much drive she sittin' shotty
Homeboy in the back he got the shotty
Between him and I we catchin' bodies
We catchin' bodies
She do Pilates, I catch a body
You do karate, he catch a body
She do Pilates, I catch a body
You do karate, he catch a body
Where you at?
She send a text, I don't answer, she don't wait for that
She hit my line asking question after question
I got answer after answer
Then it's question after question
After question after question (ooooh shit)
I'm like hold up!
Where I come from we ain't ever have nothin'
Matter fact what you call nothin'
That's what we call somethin' (somethin')
Tired of struggling suffocating and we huffin' and puffin'
We coming up for air tryna ride I guess
That explains all the pumpin' (and the slumpin')
Speaking of slumpin' my mans got locked up cause
Somebody shot his cousin (somebody shot his cousin?)
The shit pissed him off to the point he got to dumpin'
Riding around with a clip full of prune juice,
Screaming out "deuce, deuce" yeah he got to dumpin'
His cousin left a stash for the murderer
Of the murderer that's Good Will Hunting
Well I'm something, like Matt Damon I'm a genius but don't belong here
No Esmeralda in bald hair (here) like cancer
Causes all I hear is I don't think you can sir like woah woah
And every question got the same God damn answer like no no
That'll leave a nigga stuck up on the low low
Well I guess that's post traumatic
When you growing up close to addicts
And you can't get a job,
And you can't get a car but your man's selling blow to them addicts
Blaming the system,
And you're like do you know what I'll do with your social bastard
Till you get it for about six months and you don't do a thing... damn
(Well I'm almost done getting ready can you come get me?)
I'm with your shorty
Boy I got so much drive she sittin' shotty
Homeboy in the back he got the shotty
Between him and I we catchin' bodies
We catchin' bodies
She do Pilates, I catch a body
You do karate, he catch a body
She do Pilates, I catch a body
You do karate, he catch a body

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