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aminé – campfire lyrics

[intro]
“you no-business, born-insecure, junkyard motherf-cker!”

[chorus: aminé]
got a bad lil’ mama, and she always with the sh-ts
put a hundred in my pocket, then a hundred on the rims
that’s my lil’ b-tch—that’s—that’s my lil’ b-tch
that’s my lil’ b-tch—that’s—that’s my lil’ b-tch
put a red dress on her and some gas for the trip
got a hundred in my pocket and a couple on the tint
that’s my lil’ b-tch—that’s—that’s my lil’ b-tch
that’s my lil’ b-tch—that’s—that’s my lil’ b-tch

[verse 1: aminé]
campfire—i’m a hot motherf-cker
please, no pictures, i’m a tired motherf-cker
spidey senses tingle when it’s fake n-ggas
dreads swinging like they did the harlem shake, n-gga, that’s true
west coast ’til i d-i-e
if you want respect, look me in my e-y-e
i love my whips like a racist and travel lot of places
free my n-gga, hef, f-ck the police
uh, oprah for president, clbn resident
thizz-face when i’m disgraced—that’s the n-gga in me
might catch me at a whole foods
and if you see that red mercedes, then you know who

[verse 2: ritchie with a t]
yeah, yeah, campfire—i’m a scary lil’ n-gga
this run in my blood like drew barrymore, n-gga
and my fit on et, yo ‘sh-t on ebt
so when you try to flex, i’m like, “what’s yo’ credit score, n-gga?”
yeah, and that’s word to my granny
since 14, knew the route like randy
everything dandy, gray sweats with the pennys
nausea, heartburn, side effects may vary
yeah, f-ck these n-ggas, where the child lock?
so many hits, i could have my own now! comp
pen a triple album full of all my children
no difference from kidz bop, book ’em in the hilton

- amine lyrics

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