Pi’erre Bourne – Tabloid Lyrics

Tabloid Lyrics by Pi’erre Bourne

[Intro]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, woah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, woah (damn)

[Chorus]
Like the tabloids, she heard about Miami Ima bad boy (yeah)
Genie in a bottle, what you ask for (yeah)
Wish we could spend time, I’ll be back poor(yeah)
Came up from sleeping yeah on that floor (ooh)
Girl I miss your ocean when I pass shore (ooh)
I can’t follow you I just get mad more (yeah)
My old head told me love gone make the bag short (yeah)
[Verse 1]
Yeah, we used to be photogenic, now the photos different
It’s like she got asthma, had to let her breathe for a minute
She’s been ducking out, and fucking a nigga on the side
I just had sex with two girls, at the same time
Yeah my girls got pride, slut walk one more time
Slut walk one more time, live yo bestest life
Yeah I’m Pi’erre Bourne, baby girl you know I’m fly
Yeah she giving brain like Jean Grey, just use your mind

[Chorus]
Like the tabloids, she heard about Miami Ima bad boy (yeah)
Genie in a bottle, what you ask for (yeah)
Wish we could spend time, I’ll be back poor(yeah)
Came up from sleeping yeah on that floor (ooh)
Girl I miss your ocean when I pass shore (ooh)
I can’t follow you I just get mad more (yeah)
My old head told me love gone make the bag short (yeah)

[Verse 2]
Yeah, yeah
God forgive me for my sins, yeah I’m smoking purple like Prince
When she give me common sense, yeah my pockets never thin
Yeah pockets never slim, wait, tables turn they spin, wait
On her knees her shins, yeah she’s on her knees her shins
I cut her off again, baby you condemned, wait
Suck the life up outta me, she eating my semen
I don’t want no kids, yeah, my life is like a myth
Wouldn’t believe this shit, wouldn’t believe this shit
Skrt skrt

[Chorus]
Like the tabloids, she heard about Miami Ima bad boy (yeah)
Genie in a bottle, what you ask for (yeah)
Wish we could spend time, I’ll be back poor(yeah)
Came up from sleeping yeah on that floor (ooh)
Girl I miss your ocean when I pass shore (ooh)
I can’t follow you I just get mad more (yeah)
My old head told me love gone make the bag short (yeah)