Lyrics Yung Gravy – Rotisserie

Uh, Bbno$
Wassup, baby?
Skrr skrr
Man, downtime your mother

Bbno$ & Yung Gravy:
Foreign clothes
Foreign show
Need a foreign hoe
Foreign money
Foreign honey
Sippin’ foreign pho (true)
Born show, born to glow
Never said that (skrr skrr)
Stayin’ low, on my toes
I’mma get that (get it)
It’s getting serious
Make a bitch delirious
Bitches on my dick ’cause a boy so mysterious (woah)
That’s a mystery
Thots makin’ history
Wrist keep spinnin’ like a fuckin’ rotisserie (skrr)

Bbno$:
David letterman, I said it, man
I’m better, man (better)
She wrap me up, she wrap me up
Just like the santa, man (whoa)
I love my candy
Tryna be a little sweeter, man (sweet)

Bbno$ & Yung Gravy:
Foreign clothes
Foreign show
Need a foreign hoe
Foreign money
Foreign honey
Sippin’ foreign pho (true)
Born show, born to glow
Never said that (skrr skrr)
Stayin’ low, on my toes
I’mma get that (skrrrr)
It’s getting serious
Make a bitch delirious
Bitches on my dick ’cause a boy so mysterious (woah)
That’s a mystery
Thots makin’ history
Wrist keep spinnin’ like a fuckin’ rotisserie (skrr)

Yung Gravy:
Got my wrist whippin’ (whippin’)
Lookin’ like a chef (chef)
Oregano in my right, 30 on my left (yah)
Pull up with the set, got the kitchen all wet
And the cream team comin’ for your neck (lil’ bitch, ooh)
I don’t do shit, but my bitch got tits (tits)
Gravy walk around lookin’ like a fucking lick (lick)
Side bitch thick, and my main bitch thick
And my oatmeal thick
Bitch, I can’t even pick (whoa)
Gravy be finnesin’, it’s a blessin’ when I’m on the block
Teach your boy a lesson ’bout the flexin’
Bitches on a jock
Wrist so reflective, it’s aggressive for a fuckin’ clock
I been pourin’ dressin’ and caressin’ on your fuckin’ thot
(Holy shit)

Bbno$:
Foreign clothes
Foreign show
Need a foreign hoe
Foreign money
Foreign honey
Sippin’ foreign pho (true)
Born show, born to glow
Never said that (skrr skrr)
Stayin’ low, on my toes
I’mma get that

Get it how I like
Get a hoe I like, yuh
Cash out how I like how I like
Cash out how I like how I like, yuh
Thottie ain’t my type
Yeah, she ain’t my type, yuh
40 on my wrist
What a damn life, yuh