Got work (slight work) D-Town to the DMV Diplo wassup Finally got your girl going crazy Drunk white bitches (work it, wo-wo-work it, oh)
I can do it all and it ain't no problem Ain't nobody harder than a nigga Folarin Bitch I go hard, I’m ballin’ I’m globe trotting And my flow art my nigga, I’m Mozart with it It’s all good, I do this I turn a straight prude bitch into a nudist Foolish I be on that new shit And I’m blowing up like bitches we went to school with Ain't nobody checking for your garbage Lot of intuition I ain't even finish college Never hit the mall and forever get it all Any broad better layer like I’m dressing for the fall, nigga And I’m all that, hit the passenger door Shawty was Pinkberry sweet and I ain't lactose I ain't tryna brag tho, I’m just know I’m that dope Kick game Bo Jacks, my Bo Jacks Tai bo Haha, and it ain't no problem, you race to these broads I relay ‘em, baton ‘em Bitches in here, one thou But when you step out why the bitches run out Double MG shit I put the set down Rick James back, bad bitches on the couch Ahh, wordplay, Olubowale my first name I think I’m Koko B. wearin, you just a bird babe I got a pair of J’s, I roll a pair of J’s We up in Diamond supply, spending that carrot cake Let it marinate, you forever late A million home sellers couldn’t find a realer state
[Chorus] (Work it, work it) slight work, its light work (Work it, work it) The wrong drink, the right work Slight work, light work (Work it, work it) The wrong drink, the right work work, work, work, work work, work, work, work work, work, work, work Work, work, work, work
Bitch you ain't a boss 'til you cut a pay check Only thing between me and your bitch is latex Man, and I ain't into saving these hoes My nigga tell me where you see a cape at B-I, B-I bitch B-I-G The two things I don’t need are you and my ID I’mma need a yellow cab and a yellow bad bitch Green faces but a nigga dodging yellow badges, wooop (sirens) Cause I’m drunk, yeah ok Under twenty five living the fucking life White America said I’ll be doing twenty five to life And just for that, I’ma blow twenty five tonight You make twenty five a year, I make twenty five a night, woah Blucka, blucka, blucka Bitch get hit with my Ciroc Vodka choppa (Go) takin’ body shots, blocka, blocka, blocka Probably in your girls dreams, probably in your daughter locker Top floor like I’m out tanning And they stole your whole delivery, now that's outlandish I guess like good delivery, man, I’m outstanding Car tinted, I’m in it, til like I’m out camping, goddammit I’m one hell of a guy, looking down on a cloud, that's one hell of a high Bitch, I gets ghost, the way she screaming Big Niggas couldn’t tell if I was dead or alive
You already know, Finally Famous in this D-Town to the DMV, Probably got your girl going crazy, crazy, boiii, boi, boi
From the D-Town to the DMV, I got all these bad bitches tryna get with me From the D-Town to the DMV, I got all these bad bitches tryna get on me We need to see ID
Writer/s: DAVID JAMES ANDREW TAYLOR, DEREK JAMES ALLEN, OLUBOWALE VICTOR AKINTEMEHIN, SEAN MICHAEL ANDERSON, THOMAS WESLEY PENTZ
Publisher: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind
"Feel It Still" by Portugal. The Man deals with lead singer John Gourley becoming a "rebel just for kicks" after having a daughter and settling down. "It's hard to be a punk when you're thinking about your baby daughter at home," he says.