"F4U" lyrics
Said I'm feenin' for you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you
(He's heatin' up)
Yeah
You know, they say it's always gon' be a badder bitch, but some reason, that don't apply to you
I can't even lie to you, these bitches are bad, but just not as fine as you
They lookin' at me like how come I'm not outside with you
They lookin' at me like, "Who gon' make this nigga fold?"
Walkin' all in my line of sight, tryna find out who I'ma like
Let me show it to you
Let me hit her phone
Baby, hoes in here doin' pick and rolls
I know I said I was out with my bros, but I need you to go put different clothes on (Know what I'm sayin')
I don't know the difference between swizz and provolone
But I know the difference between my bitch and these hoes
She got a nigga cheatin'
Not for any reason other reason other than
She borderline comedian
Stay on her lane the way these bitches grab on her median (Damn)
Like it's 2012, I'm swervin' this ho, and I mean it (Swerve)
I'm showin' no mercy to hoes and I mean it
It's only you in this black Lamborghini
I feel like Bruce Wayne but I need a Selina
Done with that bag? Man, you happy to see it
Just give me that cat and I'm happy to eat it
I'm mad at you teasin' me
These bitches, they lack what I'm needin'
Let's keep it a rack, then I [?], I swear
I swear, won't be no mackin' for me
And, I swear, won't be no casualties
And, I swear, she a killer if he in the middle and move to the right
She [?] all my truest to light
I cannot be sleazy, provin' 'em right
Nah, huh
Better know I ain't comin' here to go back and forth with no stare-downs, baby
'Cause— (Said I'm feenin' for you)
Am I right to [?] you like eight or nine
Different hairstyles, baby (Said I'm feenin' for you)
Whether it's braided now, or hair down, maybe, or curly or straight
You switch it up year-round
Two-strand twist, it ain't fair, now, baby (Chill)
Hahah, nah, for real, you gotta chill (You look good in everything, what's goin' on?)
Chill out, you got all these bitches mad (Fiendin' for)
But, I only got you, so it don't even matter for real
Beleive that (For real, huh)
(He's heatin' up)
Yeah
You know, they say it's always gon' be a badder bitch, but some reason, that don't apply to you
I can't even lie to you, these bitches are bad, but just not as fine as you
They lookin' at me like how come I'm not outside with you
They lookin' at me like, "Who gon' make this nigga fold?"
Walkin' all in my line of sight, tryna find out who I'ma like
Let me show it to you
Let me hit her phone
Baby, hoes in here doin' pick and rolls
I know I said I was out with my bros, but I need you to go put different clothes on (Know what I'm sayin')
I don't know the difference between swizz and provolone
But I know the difference between my bitch and these hoes
She got a nigga cheatin'
Not for any reason other reason other than
She borderline comedian
Stay on her lane the way these bitches grab on her median (Damn)
Like it's 2012, I'm swervin' this ho, and I mean it (Swerve)
I'm showin' no mercy to hoes and I mean it
It's only you in this black Lamborghini
I feel like Bruce Wayne but I need a Selina
Done with that bag? Man, you happy to see it
Just give me that cat and I'm happy to eat it
I'm mad at you teasin' me
These bitches, they lack what I'm needin'
Let's keep it a rack, then I [?], I swear
I swear, won't be no mackin' for me
And, I swear, won't be no casualties
And, I swear, she a killer if he in the middle and move to the right
She [?] all my truest to light
I cannot be sleazy, provin' 'em right
Nah, huh
Better know I ain't comin' here to go back and forth with no stare-downs, baby
'Cause— (Said I'm feenin' for you)
Am I right to [?] you like eight or nine
Different hairstyles, baby (Said I'm feenin' for you)
Whether it's braided now, or hair down, maybe, or curly or straight
You switch it up year-round
Two-strand twist, it ain't fair, now, baby (Chill)
Hahah, nah, for real, you gotta chill (You look good in everything, what's goin' on?)
Chill out, you got all these bitches mad (Fiendin' for)
But, I only got you, so it don't even matter for real
Beleive that (For real, huh)
Writer(s): Roger Troutman, Bryson Tiller, Terry Troutman, Ernest Eugene Brown Iii, Don Degrate
