Lyrics

Latto – Sunday Service Lyrics

Latto Sunday Service Lyrics

I don’t sing R&B, but b****. I’m really HER, f**k wrong with n***
How you let him cheat and take him back, must be your only n**
I get loud just like my weed, I don’t watch my tone with n***
I hang up the phone on n***, ye’aint my daddy, b****, I’m Big Momma
Every time y’all book me with them hoes, it’s gon’ be big drama
Twenty black Suburbans, we pull up like Sunday Service
I just want a one-on-one. I don’t know why she’s so nervous
F**k with these hoes sayin’, ’cause my n** say I’m perfect

Anyway, body count so low I might say I’m a virgin
Any day, I could switch my car just like I switch my purses
Andale, quick to cut him off if he don’t service no purpose
You a clown and I’m allergic, n*** skraight up out the circus
It’s the nerve for me, these n*** burnt they third degree
He callin’ tryin’ to work it out, I’d rather make him work for me’
The f**k ?
He can’t tell if it’s authentic or it’s a surgery
Please, Lil’ Nas X the only n** curving me!

I don’t sing R&B, but b**** I’m really HER, f**k wrong with n***
How you let him cheat and take him back, must be your only n**
I get loud just like my weed, I don’t watch my tone with n***
I hang up the phone on n***, ye’aint my daddy, b****, I’m Big Momma
Every time y’all book me with them hoes, it’s gon’ be big drama
Twenty black Suburbans, we pull up like Sunday Service
I just want a one-on-one. I don’t know why she’s so nervous
F**k with these hoes sayin’, ’cause my n** say I’m perfect

Tell the truth, oh, I’m not that cute? Bet you won’t ask ya boo
He get money, I get money too, like who gon’ trick on who?
These b****es corny, soon as monkey see, then you know monkey do
Do you rap or do you tweet? ‘Cause I can’t tell, get in the booth, b****
Stop all that motha f**kin yelling hoe
‘Cause I ain’t buyin’ what you sellin’, ho
Think I’m the sh*t, b****, I know it, ho
Jesus walked on water, I got ice water though
Miss me with that sucker sh*t, I’m not your baby momma
Blocked his ass on everything, he in my dm’s writing albums
Better hold ya n** tight, for I make you come up off him
Say two wrongs don’t make a right, but I’m the type get one up on ’em

I don’t sing R&B, but b****, I’m really HER, f**k wrong with n***
How you let him cheat and take him back, must be your only n**
I get loud just like my weed, I don’t watch my tone with n***
I hang up the phone on n***, ye’aint my daddy, b****, I’m Big Momma
Every time y’all book me with them hoes, it’s gon’ be big drama
Twenty black Suburbans, we pull up like Sunday Service
I just want a one-on-one. I don’t know why she’s so nervous
F**k with these hoes sayin’, ’cause my n** say I’m perfect

Twenty black Suburbans, we pull up like Sunday Service
Anyway
F**k with these hoes sayin’, ’cause my n** say I’m perfect