Real Boston Richey - New Wave

Can we go back home?
Go back to my place?
Uh, uh, uh, uh
Uh, hm
(Damn, Pablo)

Yeah, can we go back home?
Go back to my place?
New wave
Nigga, I'm drippin' tax 'cause I'm the new age
Ho, I'll pipe you up, drip you down in Saint Loewe
But I don't listen, bitch, I only listen to what my son say
This a Porsche coupe, red guts leakin' on the Broadway
Bring them whores through, bitch, we ain't chillin', this ain't a spa date
I'm gonna avoid you, bitch, you playin' hella games like parlay
I'm tryna warn you, these youngins shoot whenever I say

I'm forever out here trappin' bags
Ridin' fast cars, nigga, I'm out here livin' fast
Fell out with a couple niggas, these days, I'm kind of glad
Cheated on a couple bitches, some days, I want 'em back
'Cause I done did 'em sad
She like that she hate broke bitches, I'm like, "Me too"
The type that play it rich, but you know them bitches be see-through
The type that say, they left they card at home, yeah, we onto you
I done piped it up, only rich bitches up in this booth
I done piped it up, now when I slide, it's stars in the roof
He got more than who? Bitch, a rich nigga walked up in this room
Teach you how to be around a rich nigga, bitch, cut that attitude
You could be my queen, never drip you in Alexander, boo
I'ma be your king, type of nigga stay down, boss you up
You know what I did, but on the 'Gram, bae, I ain't fuckin' up
You take lil' B back one more time, bae, it won't cost you nothin'
Hitter done popped his top, now when he move, he move cautious, huh?

Can we go back home?
Go back to my place?
New wave
Nigga, I'm drippin' tax 'cause I'm the new age
Ho, I'll pipe you up, drip you down in Saint Loewe
But I don't listen, bitch, I only listen to what my son say
This a Porsche coupe, red guts leakin' on the Broadway
Bring them whores through, bitch, we ain't chillin', this ain't a spa date
I'm gonna avoid you, bitch, you playin' hella games like parlay
I'm tryna warn you, these youngins shoot whenever I say

Uh, all them times it was hard, I ran it up alone
Uh, every day I'm gone, my mama call my phone
Uh, uh, all these cars I bought, I never got a loan
Uh, uh, all these times we fucked, we never got along
Bitch look like Gabrielle Union, okay, bring it on
None of these bitches can't even fool me, they can't lead me on
I make you mad, then eat that pussy like filet mignon
Bad bitches support me, her nigga hate my songs
Uh, all this shit in my head just like a chromosome
I learnt myself, I burnt my hand when I was home alone
Niggas keep on dyin', pussy bitch, you better keep your chrome
Slippers count, so when you move, be on point 'cause slippers don't
All this shit I did, I'll never tell a nigga some shit I won't
I done seen a nigga get his shit split, don't ask me what I'm on
It's late as fuck, I'm tryna fuck, don't ask me what I'm on
Try to run another milli' up, you ask, "What Boston on?"
A bitch embarrassin' me, still'll wake up and probably call her phone
A bitch went down on me, swear to God, I ain't have to lead her on
The feds tappin' in, so when you want it, call my people phone
She put the police on me, that's the only way I'ma leave her 'lone

Can we go back home?
Go back to my place?
New wave
Nigga, I'm drippin' tax 'cause I'm the new age
Ho, I'll pipe you up, drip you down in Saint Loewe
But I don't listen, bitch, I only listen to what my son say
This a Porsche coupe, red guts leakin' on the Broadway
Bring them whores through, bitch, we ain't chillin', this ain't a spa date
I'm gonna avoid you, bitch, you playin' hella games like parlay
I'm tryna warn you, these youngins shoot whenever I say

Written by:
Jalen Foster

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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