Lyrics
I guess I can meet up tomorrow, I’m fly
As fuck… and I’m flexin' like my homies
Swear to God I think I’m Stovie (What up?)
Or Tag Reed, maybe D’Artiste (What up Daniel?)
On the way (Swag), tryna- where you are (Are)
Told you I don’t have a car (Car)
Told you I don’t have a car (Fly)
But I had to turn around ('Round)
Didn’t know I was in town (No)
Shoulda hit you when I touched down, that’s it (It)
So I had to take a trip
So I had to do a flip (Flip)
Too much standin' up, I had to sit (Sit)
And fuck it, I’ll throw a parade (Uh)
And I’m flexin' like I’m Gabe (Gabe, yeah, yeah)
And I’m flexin' like I’m gay (Yeah, yeah)
Life of the party (Yah, yah)
Life of the- uh, have a sip, yeah
Who you know gon' be this fly with a set of twins on a swing set?
Not too sure… I have no idea
(Yeah, you know I’m too fly)
But I’m fly
Yeah, you really are, youngblood
(Too fly)
I’m fly (Skrrt)
And I’m flexin' like my dad (Flex, yeah)
Can’t get an Uber, call a cab (Yeah, cab)
Told you I’m done bein' sad (I am)
Ayy, on the way
Tryna- where you are (Are)
Told you I don’t have a car (Car)
I guess I can meet up tomorrow (Tomorrow)
Ayy, and I’m flexin' like my homies (Homies)
Swear to God I think I’m Stovie (Stovie)
Or Tag Reed, maybe D’Artiste
And you know I’m too fly
Yeah, yeah, yeah you know I’m too fly
Ooh
Fly just like a jet (Jet)
Hangin' outside like we’re rich
Shawty hit my line and said I’m fly (Fly)
I don’t respond to my texts (Texts)
But if you call me collect
My phone will pick up and that’s on the fly (Fly, fly)
I don’t sip, I cry
She left my dick behind and told me, «Little nigga, bye-bye» (Yeah, peace out)
Said she tryna slide, I asked her why she lyin'
And she told me she don’t even know why
Sippin' Hennessy like wine
Every time I feel the vibe, got a nigga gon' die
But I… tell myself that I’ll be fine
'Cause I’m super fuckin' fly
You can call me Super-
Short shorts, I’m legit (Legit)
You see me leavin' from the 6 (6)
I’m in Calabasas with my clique
Nails painted, I’m the bomb (Bomb)
I think I’m flexin' like my mom (Mom)
Nigga, just left the salon (Salon)
Skate, skate, and I got my Vans on (On)
Got my fuckin' Vans on
Like the other night, like Solange ('Lange)
(Yeah, yeah, ayy)
Who the fuck is dylAn?
(Yeah, they know I’m too fly)
I’m fly, «yeah, you really are»
(Yeah, yeah, they know I’m too fly)
I’m fly (Fly)
(Yeah, they know I’m too fly)
And I’m flexin' like my dad (Dad)
Can’t get an Uber, call a cab (Cab)
Told you I’m done bein' sad (I am)
No more tears
Tryna- where you are (Are)
Told you I don’t have a car (Car)
I guess I can meet up tomorrow (Skrrt)
On the way
And the- uh, make my chest hurt
And I feel like Quatho
Nigga, flex on Western (Western)
Yeah, they know I’m too fly
Yeah, they know I’m too fly
And you know I’m too fly
And you know I’m too fly