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• Artiste: Mia Gladstone
• Titre: Food
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Cover yourself, bitch Put on a fuckin' shirt Hairy ass armpits That shit is gross (Fuck you, Mia) Cover myself, respect my health Baby girl, don't you never tell me shit (Let it go, let it go, let it go) I don't wanna hear it, no (Let it go, let it go, let it go) I go back and forth like a lover Above the ground, then I'm under, uh (Ah-ah, ah, ah-ah) Put on a shirt, don't dress like a man Oh my God, don't you never tell me shit (Let it go, let it go, let it go) I don't like your spirit (Let it go, let it go, let it go) Tryna get high with no company You leave your mind in the gutter I'm young and wise like a mother (Bitch, shut the fuck up) I don't feel like me when you talkin' Nah, I don't feel like me when you talkin' All this weakness in my knees Damn, this bitch can barely breathe Not your honey, let me be I don't wanna eat, I don't wanna eat Talk with your tits, let it all in Talk to the kids, let 'em begin To understand the weight that the ladies bring in Make your own body like a buffet Two little titties lookin' lovely But I can never free 'em in the right way And mama never told me, "Take it lightly" I am not a bubble, but, bitch, I'm 'bout to pop off D-D, double the greet, he tryna talk soft Into me, preconceived fantasy He tryna dance with me I stand still, but he don't know the deal I'm unconcealed, he tryna cop a feel Bitch, I'm in a T-shirt, bite until your teeth hurt Don't you know I read your mind? Look me in my fuckin' eye In a tree Catching sleep Got that green in my eyes, baby (Yeah), ooh In a tree (Yeah) Smokin' tree (Yeah) I feel, high, high, high High, high, high, high, high, high High, high, high, high High, high, high, high, high, high High, high, high, high My shell compels me to say these things Bitch, tell me I'm pretty My shell compels me to say these things Bitch, tell me I'm pretty