ENNY - No More Naija Men lyrics

I seem to go for Naija men
That love to have me stressing
My bredrens told me to broad my pool
I might be blocking blessings
Enrolling up in the school of life
And learning all these lessons
'Cause time has been of the essence
And clearly it's getting pressing

I'm pressing buttons, I'm clued up
My braids looks just like Medusa
I'm tryna get all my food up
I'm rapping man, ah ah ah
A lyrical assassination I put in placement
'Cause, I ain't 'bout to
Serve the main course this a taster

I roll around the ends
Find peace like I'm Buddha
Roll deep, got my hood up
No beef, 'cause I'm good up
You wanna be bad so bad and it's boring
You constantly bring up old
Shit and I'm yawning
You constantly bring up old shit
(shit, shit, shit)

Ay, like it's the hate hollow and worry
I hang on it took a millisecond of composure
To language this
Every sentence leaving your lip
I would hang on it
Thoughts of walking into the sun
But our hands don't fit

Ya, still jiggy, I got it
I pay for it, I want it
I spend, look at this change
I stay stuck in some pain
I stand still in the rain
My hair can't back it knee deep in your love
My heart can't hack it

Yeah, the constant need for affection
It keep me robust
But the topic headed right back
To the rearranged gut
I was tryna get you to drop
Me and you a make us
Your infatuation with pussy
You keep eyes block
Why they teaching that women's the problem
Educate us
And why you had me deep in my feelings
A sorry can't run

Seen Eve with the apple, lead me into battle
For a piece
He would break his bond with Jesus
I'm rattled
For a piece, he would let it all
All fall down for a piece
He would burn this whole thing to the ground
For a piece
He would fuck up on his best friend's girl
For a piece, he would, ay

Like it's the hate hollow and worry
I hang on it took a millisecond of composure
To language this
Every sentence leaving your lip
I would hang on it
Thoughts of walking into the sun
But our hands don't fit
It's the hate hollow and worry, I hang on it
Took a millisecond of composure
To language this
Every sentence leaving your lip
I would hang on it
Thoughts of walking into the sun
But our hands don't fit