New Type (Explicit)

New Type (Explicit) - Summer Walker/Childish Gambino

Lyrics by：Larry Lambert/Remey Williams/Darnell Stoxstell/Jah Whittingham/Summer Walker/Donald Glover/Jahlil Gunter

Composed by：Larry Lambert/Remey Williams/Darnell Stoxstell/Jah Whittingham/Summer Walker/Donald Glover/Jahlil Gunter

I'm feeling on these silk sheets

And I'm filling up these silk sheets

With legs hips thighs a*s

Legs hips thighs a*s

I'm feeling on these silk sheets

Oh I'm feeling so alone

Wish I had a man to make me whole

Whole

Turn this big a*s house into a home

Home

And I

I'm

I'm watching my cell phone ring

Watching my **** light up

I got hood n***as blowing me up I

I

I I

I I

Not tonight

Tonight tonight

I gotta new type new type new type

New type

Trick daddy looking ************

Swear 'fore God I never wanna see another

H*es on the top on the bottom way up under

Arguing on the phone with your ugly baby mother

Sleeping on the couch of the house of your mother

You can't live with me so won't you try and find another

******* round with me you gon' end up on your own

Have your stuff out on the street won't you go and call Tyrone-rone

I know I'm ugly but I'm interesting

You know I'm flirting with ya

You want that perfect picture

No filter simple living

Simping always listen

Guilt him so there's no suspicion

Low ambition

Wanna live his life without my BM in my DM saying junior miss him

I show up with a happy meal your attitude ain't happy

You tell my son his daddy broke he hear you laughing at me

N***a get the **** outta here with that broke a*s McDonald's

I'm from around the way your cousin went to Abernathy

I knew you when your wig ain't have no lace I loved you nappy

Girl now why you cappin'

That a*s ain't yours I can't afford I'm waitin' on my taxes

But you look good been on your Erykah I drive through Texas

You said to call Tyrone

You know they booked him in January

I'm doing 9 to 5 he wanna eat off my commissary

You want me doing life I'm not the type to wife

And call me trifling but I ain't no

Trick daddy lookin' ************

Swear 'fore God I never wanna see another

H*es on the top on the bottom way up under

Arguing on the phone with your ugly baby mother

Sleeping on the couch of the house of your mother

You can't live with me so won't you try and find another

******* round with me you gon' end up on your own

Have your stuff out on the street won't you go and call Tyrone-rone