"New York" lyrics
Press Machine
Press Machine
Press Machine
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
I'm on the court probably text her when I'm bored
She seen the rarri, now she want a horse
Gucci couture, and her sunglasses Dior
She let the kid, she say Pressa I adore
She wanted keys, I'm like uh huh you need
And it's really killin me how you get up in those jeans
Girl you lucky if you get the Press Machine
You ain't for me if you never bought a drink
Before my fame have you ever thought of me, would you ever consider me in your mouth bon appitit
I swear I'm fire they should call me hazardry
And you can taste it just please don't use your teeth
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
I'm her New York, your boyfriend a dork
[?], who came with the sword
I need a wraith, [?] out the porsche
I'm not in it in the streets, but I'm knockin on the door
400 on my ring, 300 on my chain
How you make the jewellers spit 500 on a chain
They call for interviews, but they ain't Charlamagne
I think I feel like birdman, put respect up on my name
These boys they funny, ice cube
Her ring weigh an ice cube
I might just take his main girl, to show him what the fame do
Might pull up in the i8, your boyfriend drive an A2
Or move out to the country, too special to live on bayview
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
Press Machine
Press Machine
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
I'm on the court probably text her when I'm bored
She seen the rarri, now she want a horse
Gucci couture, and her sunglasses Dior
She let the kid, she say Pressa I adore
She wanted keys, I'm like uh huh you need
And it's really killin me how you get up in those jeans
Girl you lucky if you get the Press Machine
You ain't for me if you never bought a drink
Before my fame have you ever thought of me, would you ever consider me in your mouth bon appitit
I swear I'm fire they should call me hazardry
And you can taste it just please don't use your teeth
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
I'm her New York, your boyfriend a dork
[?], who came with the sword
I need a wraith, [?] out the porsche
I'm not in it in the streets, but I'm knockin on the door
400 on my ring, 300 on my chain
How you make the jewellers spit 500 on a chain
They call for interviews, but they ain't Charlamagne
I think I feel like birdman, put respect up on my name
These boys they funny, ice cube
Her ring weigh an ice cube
I might just take his main girl, to show him what the fame do
Might pull up in the i8, your boyfriend drive an A2
Or move out to the country, too special to live on bayview
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
Writer(s): Quentin Gardiner, Mohamed Mohamed
