LIL' BABY & GUNNA


Never Recover Lyrics

[Intro: Drake & Lil Juice]
Tay Keith, f**k these niggas up
Ayy, yeah
Tay Keith, this too hard
Ring, ring, ring, we drip too hard, ayy
(Run that back, Turbo)
Yeah, ayy, look

[Verse 1: Drake & Gunna]
I bring up money, they change up the topic
I got a 19 and it fold in my pocket
She gave me her number, now I gotta block it
I'm mixin' the dirty bills in with the profit
Clean that shit up and I give it right back to him
If I don't f**k with him, then I can't rap with him
I wanna be there when somebody catches him
I want a witness to see that shit
Man, these folks, these folks gotta goddamn hear this
shit, no cap
I bring up hits and they change up the topic
I got a 19 and it fold in my pocket
One hell of a year and a nigga still droppin'
They wanted to stop it, but they couldn't stop it
You told a story like shorty was feelin' you
She told a story like she split the bill with you
Look at my story, man, no one could write it
Now I see a million, I don't get excited
I might just YSL my shit, the Thugger way
Ain't no real sense in me goin' the other way
Cannot be seen in that shit from the other day
Virgil just chef'd me a whole different colorway
Please don't be stupid, it's Baby and Gunna
And Baby, he wanted her, so I just swung her
Next time I'm in Dallas, I'll look for another
You niggas fell off and you'll never recover

[Verse 2: Gunna]
Poured up some Hi-Tech and wait 'til it bubble
Young Gunna Gunna, I make this shit double
Hit Eliantte and left with a puddle
It's me, Drake, and Baby, you know you in trouble
Run up my check, my bitch sprinted the shuttle
Sign plus an M, bought a Benz for my brother
Painted all black, the interior butter
I drip like a leak and that's word to my mother
Yeah, came out the street, gotta sleep with a cutter
Family a beast, we gon' eat us a supper
My dick in her mouth like she teethin' or somethin'
Sound like it could be Drip Season this summer
Ain't no comparin' 'cause we number one
In black and white Chanel, I look like a nun
The police in shock, don't know who got a gun
Don't got what I got 'cause I shop in Milan
It's winter, I still took the top off the don
The kid was surprised that my trunk in the front
I know you a upset they don't shine in the sun
Cuban link look like a box of crayons
I'm still at the lot, tryna cop the Cayenne
I told the judge, "f**k it", I'm goin' on the run
You want it, my dawgs'll look out for the bond

[Chorus: Lil Baby]
And I'm gettin' by, let 'em choose sides
We get M's in by the shoe size
I don't f**k with y'all type of kind
I done seen all y'all dickride
Bread winner like I'm Kevin Gates
And I swear to God, I don't get tired
From the trenches, now I'm goin'
Spend a whole hundred on a new wristwatch

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these lyrics are submitted by fatih

Songwriter(s): aubrey drake graham, brytavious lakeith chambers, dominique jones, sergio kitchens
Record Label(s): Quality Control Music Young Stoner Life Records, a 300 Entertainment Label Motown Records Capitol Records 2018 Quality Control Music, LLC, under
Official lyrics by

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