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Lyrics Rich The Kid, Lil Skies - Creeping

Blame on me no shame on you
No shame on you, blame on me no
Aye, aye

Blame on me, no shame on you
No you can't hide the truth
Imma slide right through yo roof
Might pop a pill or two
Let them hate, we chop the deuce
Fuck that, we gettin' loose
Pussy sweeter than some juice
I slurp it like it's soup

She a naughty type on the weekend
Perfect night, she gon' let me start to creepin'
Baby go on offense, I'm playin' defense
You want top, I swear that's the perfect sequence

Why you like to lie, shawty, you know you impressed
See you fuckin' with me now cause I bossed up and I flex
All they like to do is talk when they knew that I was next
I just come up with these hits and lay low, collect my checks
She fuck with solid niggas
She don't be fuckin' with broke boys
I ran it up, that was my choice
She call me up when she need pipe
My girl ain't playing with no toys
Watch my back, niggas lurkin'
My girl look better in person
And she still picture perfect
Dip and dash when we swervin'
Oh me, oh my
Put my hand on your thighs
If I come through tonight
I'll make you touch the sky
Don't need to wink my eye
Know I'm not even playin'
You know just what I'm sayin'
Got you and all your cravings

Blame on me, no shame on you
No you can't hide the truth
Imma slide right through yo roof
Might pop a pill or two
Let them hate, we chop the deuce
Fuck that, we gettin' loose
Pussy sweeter than some juice
I slurp it like it's soup

She a naughty type on the weekend
Perfect night, she gon' let me start to creepin'
Baby go on offense, I'm playin' defense
You want top, I swear that's the perfect sequence

Hold my wrist up out the coupe
Two bitches, spread your roof
That pussy good, I'm blamin' you
You drippin', shame on you
She got real water
Head real smarter

They into bitches from Florida
You probably can't afford her
Bentley truck might park the coupe
I'm living comfortable
Talk money then I'm stuck with you
Now I'm in love with you
Plug pull up in the Ufo
No small talk, I'm the Ceo
My bitches is bad, they do the most
She way too foreign, straight off the boat
I put her on top, she leaking, she leaking
Touch you a freak on the weekend, the weekend
Blame on me no shame on you
Girl you can't hide the truth
I might get a rari coupe
But just to flex on you

Blame on me, no shame on you
No you can't hide the truth
Imma slide right through yo roof
Might pop a pill or two
Let them hate, we chop the deuce
Fuck that, we gettin' loose
Pussy sweeter than some juice
I slurp it like it's soup

She a naughty type on the weekend
Perfect night, she gon' let me start to creepin'
Baby go on offense, I'm playin' defense
You want top, I swear that's the perfect sequence