Songtext zu 'Pretty Ricky' von Latto

(David, wake up)
Yeah
(Latto, let 'em know)
Yeah, yeah, yeah

Pretty Ricky, pleasure the P (real freak)
Pretty Ricky, he gotta pleasure the P (real freak)
Pretty Ricky, pleasure the P
Pleasure the P, he gotta pleasure the P

Light this bitch up like a candle
I got them big toys like Santa
Bitches ain't hard, they just turn on up camera
He love my grammar, I'm from Atlanta
So I don't want to hear R&B, fuck me to trap
Street smart and book smart
You know all them niggas love that (all them niggas love that)
I can't walk through no metal detector
Niggas rats, talking to the detective
Niggas fold every time under pressure
Fuck a label, I'm my own investor
Hundred thou', stuff it right in the dresser
Pocket full of blues, bitch, I need extra
Left that nigga, he'll never do better
Tell him when to shoot like a director

Pretty Ricky, pleasure the P
Pretty Ricky (real freak), he gotta pleasure the P (real freak)
Pretty Ricky (get on your knees), pleasure the P (get on your knees)
Pleasure the P (ayy), he gotta pleasure the P

I don't want him 'less the nigga got big racks
And I'm waiting on a ho to drop a diss track
I ain't going back and forth on the internet
I'ma pull up on her ass, put an end to that
Blowing through the money like a clarinet
They be ass dancing on the turtleneck
Where you from? I ain't ever heard of that
Birkin bag where I keep the burner at
When you live like this, bitch, every day payday
Put it in his face, nut in his mouth like Payday
I been stacking chips, I stay with a bag like Frito Lay
Firefighter, if she got smoke, pull up, let it spray

Pretty Ricky, pleasure the P
Pretty Ricky, he gotta pleasure the P (real freak)
Pretty Ricky, pleasure the P (real freak)
Pleasure the P (get on your knees), he gotta pleasure the P (get on your knees)

Real freak
Get on your knees
Get on your knees