New York Pressa

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[Intro]
Press Machine
Press Machine
Press Machine
[?]

[Hook]
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York
Forgive me lord I probably take all my tour
Shit galore, she make em throw more
She a baddy, she a stripper not a whore
I gave her fame now she ran off to New York

[Verse 1]
I'm on the court probably text her when I'm bored
She seen the rarri, now she want a horse
Gucci couture, and her sunglasses Dior
She let the kid, she say Pressa I adore
She wanted keys, im like uh huh you need
And it's really killin me, how you get up in those jeans
Girl you lucky if you get the Press Machine
You ain't for me if you never bought a drink
Before my fame have you ever thought of me, would you ever consider me in your mouth bon appitit
I swear I'm fire they should call me hazardry
And you can taste it just please don't use your teeth