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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lola Brooke
Vocals
Bryson Tiller
Vocals
Ashton Norful
Drums
Ej Ross
Keyboards
Khris Riddick-Tynes
Programming
Julian Mason
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bryson Tiller
Songwriter
Ronnie E Broomfield
Songwriter
Shyniece Thomas
Songwriter
Khris Riddick-Tynes
Songwriter
Julian Mason
Songwriter
Kameron Glasper
Songwriter
Jean Claude Olivier
Songwriter
Samuel J. Barnes
Songwriter
Mckinley J. Horton
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Khris Riddick-Tynes
Producer
Eugene Sims
Executive Producer
Sonny Carson
Recording Engineer
Anthony "AntMixedIt" Daniel
Mixing Engineer
Dan Millice
Mastering Engineer
LilJuMadeDaBeat
Producer
Lil Ju
Producer
Lyrics
Tonight, tonight, tonight, oh
Yeah, Tiller, whoa
And Young Lola, controller, come closer
Mad pretty, make me lose composure
Tad tipsy, won't you come over?
Last lap in the city, know I'm unsober
True, know I see you come over (you know I see you over there, there, there?)
Uh-uh, uh-uh
I'm a badass Brooklyn brown skin bitch (brown skin bitch)
And I love a hood nigga with some toxic dick (hey, baby)
Nothing but some socks, beef and brocs in it (whoa)
Have me walking all crooked in my Crocs and shit (Brr)
Bitch, I go Taraji for my baby boy (for my baby boy)
Ride it like a Kawasaki, that's his favorite toy (favorite toy)
I'ma swipe his EBT like a Amex (uh)
Give it to him raw (uh), no drawers, no latex (uh, uh)
Yeah, I got him butt-naked for me waitin' at home (waitin' at home)
Bitch, your pussy ain't hittin' if he takin' too long (if he takin' too long)
Told him, "Put my name on it" (yeah), yeah, I'm makin' him moan
Smellin' Lola Brooke, that's his favorite cologne
Ha, huh, I'm yours for the summer
Wanna drink until we drunk? I'm choosin' you, baby
Things I wanna do to you, baby
You say he crazy, so I gotta take a risk on you
Like why would I lie when I'm tryna put this on you (yeah), baby?
Ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah
Tryna make a choice between his leg or his face
Shit gettin' more intense than Election Day
What I expect today is good neck, hood sex
Stop callin' his phone, bitch, he catchin' up on rest (uh)
Fuckin' with me is a W, fuck him at the W
The way you cummin' quick seems to trouble you
I want a rough neck nigga that's nasty
My sex drive wild and this ass is immaculate
Put it in my, uh, nigga stabbin' it
A shooter that assassin it, tongue doin' magic tricks
Foot on neck (yeah), hand on frontal (frontal)
Got him bussin' nuts 'fore we leave the Holland Tunnel (yeah, ooh-ooh)
I'm yours for the summer (hey)
Wanna drink until we drunk? I'm choosin' you, baby
Things I wanna do to you, baby
You say he crazy, so I gotta take a risk on you (hey)
Like why would I lie when I'm tryna put this on you (yeah), baby?
Ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah
Yeah, Tiller
Oh-ooh-woah, baby, yeah
Young Lola, controller, come closer
Mad pretty, make me lose composure
Tad tipsy, won't you come over?
Last lap in the city, know I'm unsober
True, you know I see you come over (you know I see you over there, there, there?)
Writer(s): Bryson Dujuan Tiller, Khristopher Van Riddick-tynes, Unknown, Mason Julian Martrel, Kameron Traviss Glasper, Shyniece Deneen Thomas
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