Hey, bien le son, ouais j'avoue (Bavon!) Ce n'est qu'une question de niveau On s'demande comment se portent les gens Bien le son, ouais j'avoue (Ba-bavon!) B-bien le son, ouais j'avoue (Ba-ba-ba-bavon!) Na-na, na-na-na-na-na, na-na! Na-na-na-na-na,

I call it house work 'Cause it's life work (Whatcha, whatcha gon' do?) I'mma throw shapes Feelin' the base to my feet hurt But I'm gon' throw shade if I don't get paid for this house work Would you come along And to leave I'm working Every weekend

Sweet iced tea tippin' Pink shoulder strap slippin' Hot afternoon drippin' Honeysuckle lazy That hummingbird sippin' We out here day trippin' I'm gettin' high gettin' sugar from my baby (Honeysuckle lazy) It don't get no better than this, no

And the sound of distant thunder. The tall weeds lay flat down On the hard flat Kansas ground. And a sad song in her head, Kept blowin' round. She barely even knew his name,

Pour up, drank, head shot, drank Sit down, drank, stand up, drank Pass out, drank, wake up, drank Faded, drank, faded, drank Nigga why you babysittin' only 2 or 3 shots? I'mma show you how to turn it up a notch First you get a swimming pool full of

I'm the worlds greatest I'm that star up in the sky I'm that mountain peak up high I'm that little bit of hope When my back's against the ropes Hey I made it I can feel it Hey I made it, hmm I can feel it, hmm

(Skrt, pouloulou) Elle fait la go qui connaît pas Charo Elle m'a vu à la télé', elle a dansé ma choré' Posé, j'suis sous Jack dans mon bendo J'fais repérage de femmes sur les réseaux J'ai vu ses lolos Elle m'a pas followback quand je l'ai follow Allez,

It's not worth it for me, gets harder every time call you This life you lead, like swimming in a shiny ballroom Next time you bleed, right about this time tomorrow Next time you steal, better ask before you borrow This label "thief", find a better title

Momma put a bible in my glove box And a hot homemade apple pie in the passenger seat She said "you'll always be my baby" She planted a kiss and a couple of tears on my cheek Dad slipped me some traveling cash through a map with it highlighted right on

C'était un petit jardin Qui sentait bon le Métropolitain Qui sentait bon le bassin parisien Au fond d'une cour à la Chaussée-d'Antin Mais un jour près du jardin Passa un homme qui au revers de son veston Portait une fleur de béton Dans le jardin une voix