Roy Rutto - Friday Voicemails Lyrics

Mhm, mhm, mhm
Mhm, mhm, mhm
Yeah, ay
Ay momma, poppa
I'm out on own
The road, burned out on the road
My phone, I turned off my phone
Fasho, mhm
Now who gon ride, who gon roll
Who gon ride, who gon roll?
To the top most floor, close to Heaven or home
Can we get along? Is it me or my tone?
Is it you? Is it me? Is it worth all the fuss?
Gave you more than enough
All I heard was the "buts"
I just don't give a f*ck
I just put on my chucks
Call the children next door
Keep the trunk closed
Hope the whip is a 4
Hope the officer's dope, ay
Missed calls, withdrawals
Windfall, rainfall
Pick up the call
Pick up the call
Pick up the call
Pick up the call
Ay momma, poppa
I'm out on own (mhm)
The road, burned out on the road (ay)
My phone, I turned off my phone
Fasho, mhm mhm
Red rose, red rum
Black rose, black plums
I just wanted a taste
Didn't think it'd be laced
Where's the loving I bought?
Where's a piece of my heart?
Gimme time to relax
Gimme space to relapse
Quit the nic nac
Can I kickback?
All I need is a dose
Dopamine and some more
Melatonin with lust
And a side of some love, ay
Missed calls, withdrawals
Windfall, rainfall
Pick up the call
Pick up the call
Pick up the call
Pick up the call
Ay momma, poppa
I'm out on own (mhm)
The road, burned out on the road (ay)
My phone, I turned off my phone
Fasho, mhm
Fasho, fasho