Stefflon Don - Style lyrics

Number one, let's go. Eh [Verse 1] Cosmo? Dunno. Eh. Eh In my Eight, London. Eh Presidental Rolly on my wrist When I was younger man I couldn't picture this Come harder, always hustled. Father took the piss He was a dickhead, too much politics, I told her Don't worry momma I ain't going to sting Like when you drink the coffee and you run to do a sh** This was those days when Boba Wayne in that Eight And in one minute that popstar was at war with it [Hook] I write my lyrics in my own style My momma don't cry when I broke, no I k** beats like you must know My shot the dance at the stage show That poop my pants speaker Steff don is the teacher But ya'll, them don't know New Era was a blood, yo. [x2] [Verse 2] Steff. Tell 'em All the way through the jungle is a madness, London Step up. Steff Don is a bad chick You want it? You don't really want it, cause I Keeping 'em coming, keep 'em running, and I Burn 'em. Done 'em. Everytime them come I run 'em London. Step up. Steff Don, what up? The place get mad and wicked and wild out. Sho' Wind up the dong dong low b**hes want to know how I get get so Mad wild out, while we kick it wild out Steff Don done. She wild out [Hook] [Verse 3] Them living on they bad self And she tick and she tats so Oh she fat and she going so Blood clots, Steff Don, are mad so Face pretty girl, look good. Eh. [x2] When I come in to dance, everybody come to dance Everybody, everybody, let's go. Eh [Hook] [Verse 4] Give it to them Cosmo? Dunno. Bingo. Eh Feature. Leader. Me and the Teacher That was a bit of Dutch. Yeah, you don't know I'm Dutch But guess what. Me I'm a double Dutch Part of speak on the daily