Chris Condones - AFTERPARTY

Nights like these make me scared for life
Nights like these make me scared for life
Nights like these make me scared for life
And the love we had
We can never go back
I wish we can go back
To the day we met
I'm on some different type of shit, don't know what time I'm on (Typa shit)
I'm on some different type of shit, don't know what time I'm on
I'm sippin' activist, and takin' pills, it turn her on
They must've forgot who I was, I had to put em' on (Bitch!)
I went ghost on that bitch, in the block they call me, Patrick Swayze (Ah, ah)
First show that I had, sold out crowd
I had the crowd goin' crazy (Bitch!)
After studio sessions, you know, we fuck when we faded (Huh?)
She asked if I'm still in love, I said "I don't know, maybe" (I don't know)
Triple seven, stay my number, I'm changing my name to Brady (Bitch!)
Travelin' across the world, fuck a bitch, but I can't keep the baby (Baby)
In a G63 AMG, ridin' in Mercedes ('Cedes)
Got the keys to the truck, 4X4, ridin' in the latest
Flew to South of France
I took that bitch to Saint Tropez
I'm covered in gold, I can't do beef
I'm ballin', like Kobe
I got put inside a trance, and I got locked in there for days (Trance, trance)
I'mma pass on sex, today, I need your oral, need your face (Face)
Hit twin bitches, said they pullin' up from pound town (Twin, Twin)
Rockin' an all-black fit, I put her in a all-black night gown (Bitch!)
Been generating money, now my accountant, got my account now (Slatt, slatt)
C-O-N-D-O-N-E-S the name came from underground-ground (Woo)
I'm on some different type of shit, don't know what time I'm on (Typa shit)
I'm on some different type of shit, don't know what time I'm on (Nah, nah)
Sippin' activist, and takin' pills, it turn her on (What the fuck?)
They must've forgot who I was, I had to put em' on (Bitch!)
I smoke Grabba, and a Swisher (Swish)
I got liquor in my liver
She came back from 305, and she came back way-way-way thicker
Afterparty, we got strippers
Afterparty, it get wicked
Afterparty, I might kiss her
Afterparty, it get wicked, yeah
(Spider, spider, spider, spider)
(Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, haha)

Written by:
Chris Condones, Khadimou Fall

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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