Lyrics of 'Know Me' by NAV
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Balenci (hmm), shoe size on my toe
They know me (hmm), everywhere I go
Codeine (hmm), double cup make her toast
Got rackies, getting bags coast to coast
Elliot lit my wrist up
Diamond rings cover my fist up
After she suck my dick (what), she get kicked out, get kicked up
I ain't cuffing that bitch (no), that ain't on my agenda
Met that bitch in LA, but I fucked her in Atlanta
30 pointers in my chain, going fast in my own lane
Like Gunna, I drip insane
Make a smart girl give me brain
Let the perkys kill my pain
Break a hundred, tell her keep the change
Now the Gucci store know my name
Hottest brown boy in the game
Got two chains, my diamonds glistenin', VVs hit like this, bing
I just wanna fuck, no kissin', peasant bitches can't kiss kings
(Yeah) no cash register, pockets on ching ching
(Yeah) might've fucked that bitch, but she ain't my ting ting
Let that bitch sneak her snap, let her boyfriend know she with me
Say I look like a snack, diamonds on baseball bat, they hittin'
(Yeah, bling bling) No cash register, pockets on ching ching
(Yeah, ching ching) Might've fucked that bitch, but she ain't my ting ting
I'm TT (hmm), rolling up the dope
Bad bitch freaky (hmm), grab the bitch by her throat
Ice my pinky, AP flooded I need a boat
Get shot like Ricky (hmm), taking a brown boy for a joke
Gucci stripes all on me, cost me 80 for one sock
First time I tried to cook it, lost my RILP inside the pot
See 12 and I always book it, had a dream I was in a cell
380 racks can book me, you know all my tickets gon sell
Balenci (hmm), shoe size on my toe
They know me (hmm), everywhere I go
Codeine (hmm), double cup make her toast
Got rackies, getting bags coast to coast
Got two chains, my diamonds glistenin', VVs hit like this, bing
I just wanna fuck, no kissin', peasant bitches can't kiss kings
(Yeah) no cash register, pockets on ching ching
(Yeah) might've fucked that bitch, but she ain't my ting ting
Let that bitch sneak her snap, let her boyfriend know she with me
Say I look like a snack, diamonds on baseball bat, they hittin'
(Yeah, bling bling) no cash register, pockets on ching ching
(Yeah, ching ching) might've fucked that bitch, but she ain't my ting ting
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