Yeah, right here?

Fight just to fuck, just to fight again
World War III justified in bed
Mess me up, now we ain't even friends
But the truth is I'm kind of tired of

Pretending that I was the guilty one
I wasn't feeling up no one but you, yeah
Lessons that I just can't seem to learn
I never thought you'd leave me two for two again

Lights out, strike out, I doubt
You'll ever find anyone
These bitches can't measure up, no
Lights out, strike out, I doubt
You'll ever find anyone
These bitches can't measure up
To my ankles
Levels? (Nah)
Levels? (Nah)
Ankles
These bitches don't make it to my ankles
Levels? (Nah)
Levels? (Nah)
Ankles

Strippers and liquor and cigarettes
Apologized but your Twitter said "No regrets"
I'd kill for a mute button in my head
You alright but I'm tired of

Pretending that I was the guilty one
I wasn't feeling up no one but you, yeah
Lessons that I just can't seem to learn
I never thought you'd leave me two for two again

Lights out, strike out, I doubt
You'll ever find anyone
These bitches can't measure up (yeah)
Lights out, strike out, I doubt
You'll ever find anyone
These bitches can't measure up
To my ankles (period)
Levels? (Nah)
Levels? (Nah)
Ankles (no they don't)
These bitches don't make it to my ankles (na-na-na)
Levels? (Nah)
Levels? (Nah)
Ankles

Two feet, you're shallow
Too real, I know too well
Backwoods, you high
Backwards, two feet
Shallow, too real
I know two steps
Backwoods, you high
Backwards boy
Okay

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Alexander Joseph Delicata, Andre Davidson, Andrew Harr, Jermaine Jackson, Jessica Reyez, Sean Winston Davidson