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Justin Timberlake

Genres: Pop

Tko (black Friday Remix) Lyrics - Justin Timberlake

I don't understand it 

Tell me how could you be so low? 

(And all in thrilling, new, living sound) Dammit babe 

 

Blood thicker than water, right 

Fuck bitches, they all alike 

Stand up nigga 

Not the falling type 

Heart blacker than a Harlem night 

Til I met you, they say the devil wear Prada 

But I doubt it cause the Lord did bless you 

Damn look at that body 

Short bus shorty, cause it sure is special 

Cole to the rescue, never save a ho 

Hoes like to hide their behavior though 

Thought you was a down ass bitch 

'til I found that shit a couple days ago 

I was home alone, next thing I know 

That long ass verse 

From a song called "Control" was on 

The room got nearer, the tune got clearer 

That's when I seen the shit playing on your phone 

Girl, what is that, a ringtone 

Shit, not you too 

Man that hype done got you too 

Everybody and their momma gassed 

Even my momma asked what I'mma do 

Decisions, decisions 

In case this is war 

Then I load up on all ammunition 

If a nigga want problems, my trigger's on auto 

I'll make sure that nobody miss him 

Now pack up your shit, you don't believe in me 

I don't need you, I got me, bitch 

Same nigga moved to NYC, bitch 

Got a record deal 

And a college degree, bitch 

Two gold plaques, I produced all the tracks 

And I never ever ever lean on Jay-Z, bitch 

And after all that achievement 

Real nigga never even went and got his teeth fixed 

Now you try to play me, bitch? 

You try to fuckin' play me? I ought to knock your ass out 

 

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TKO, I don't understand it 

Tell me how could you be so low 

You've been swinging after the bell 

And after all of the whistle blows 

Tried to go below the belt 

Through my chest, perfect hit to the dome 

Dammit babe 

This ain't the girl I used to know 

No, not anymore, TKO 

 

All hail Pretty Flacko, bitch, celebrate it 

Had the game on lock, streets serenaded 

Now you lame mothafuckas 

Lookin' devastated 

Bet you niggas wish you never hated, that's the devil ain't it 

Fuck that shit, he rich, fuck that shit, he this 

Fuck that shit, he that 

He black, he don't like blacks 

Fuck that shit, he wack 

Fuck that shit he raps 

Fuck that shit he spits, fuck that bitch 

Fuck that bitch he with, finished talking shit 

Get up off my dick 

The nonsense is synonymous with comments 

From the blogs about 

Menages with the gossips and the bosses 

Fuck surprises 

I'm monogamous and not to mention, in my closet 

Is a model chick, grimey gothic fits, trapped inside of it 

Besides it I'd deny the shit 

Y'all should stop the shit 

I'm the shit, not just kinda sick 

The doc prescribed my shit 

Cock it, click-click, opposite, stop and droppin' shit 

'Fore poppin' shit, from popular 

To poppin' picks to poppin' tits 

She pop her pussy, pop a Xanny 

Popular for compliments 

Make it rain, she pop that shit 

It boosts her confidence 

Was supposed to stop this shit 

But spit like I forgot some shit 

Forgot the topic, I hope God forgive you 

Peep my common sense 

 

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TKO, I don't understand it 

Tell me how could you be so low 

You've been swinging after the bell 

And after all of the whistle blows 

Tried to go below the belt 

Through my chest, perfect hit to the dome 

Dammit babe 

This ain't the girl I used to know, no, not anymore 

TKO 

 

JT this like deja vu right? 

All this album of the year talk 

Niggas claiming they're the best out 

I been hot since the Purple Tape 

And this cuban's poking my chest out 

They keep calling on King Push, this beach chair 

I'm stretched out 

My name is my name, bitch 

Until I'm gone and it's etched out 

I been known to blow a quarter brick on baby 

Hairs and a messy bun 

If I make her mine, I made her mind 

She fall in line and we got some 

Memoirs of a millionaire, even better I'm a reallionaire 

Alaïa skirt, Fendi work 

Dress my baby like build-a-bear 

Fuck you know about the type of rollie 

Fuck you know about blowin' bands 

Bezel on it like a grand circle, diamonds in it 

Holdin' hands 

A1 since day 1, I sold dope and my name rung 

I sold dope where I came from 

And it's all dope what I made from it 

No lie, know why? 

Guy Fish in my bowtie 

JT up in the 3 piece and we magic baby 

Like showtime 

She ain't know, we ain't know, try to trap her 

But she ain't slow 

Once she trap you with the DA flow 

It's lights out, TKO 

Writer:

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