Wrist, wrist, wrist, whippin’ in the car with you.
(x10) Whippiiin’ in the car with you, you, you.
Don’t hit me past one ’cause I might come
Way too many feels, way too many feels
O.T., I’m in love with the f*ckboys
Whippin’ in the car with you, you, you. (x10)
You, you, you, youuu.
F*ckboy, thought I told you not to hit me up
Poppin’ on your voicemail goin’ dumb
I don’t need that bullsh*t in your wallet.
But I will ’cause you’re too true
Chanel bag, cop it, I don’t f*ckin’ want it
I’m just bein’ real, can I keep it real?
I got a problem and it sucks, boy
No-no-no-no, hey, I still f*ck with you
Too real for the waters, how you make me puke
Phone lit, past three, see you say what’s up
It’s good luck, when I’m like, “Oh, what’s up with you?”
Whippiiin’ in the car with you, you, you
If it’s past two, I can’t look at you (f*ck it)