Fresh Outta London Chords

INTRO: D Gm D A x2 J-J-Joey CHORUS: D I don't need new friends, I don't like fake friends Gm Only here to make M's, call when the check in (Check in) D I don't like partial, need a whole backend A Fresh outta London, she still got a accent D The crib like a palace, I took her to 'Basas Gm If he want a feature, then we gotta tax him D I got me a bad bitch, the cover of Maxim A The comments is shook up, they throwin' a tantrum, yeah

POST-CHORUS: D Gm D Wrist is flooded, no competition, can't listen, ain't talkin' 'bout shit D A D I'm lit, they know it, they wanna hate on the music but I'm makin' hits D These hunnids, I throw 'em, Gm D I need like eighty a show, that's some minimum shit D A I leave the house and I'm wearin' some shit A you can't get and I swear this shit cost like a brick VERSE: D I've been runnin' up M's all week, I'm a vet Gm Quick trip for the bag, fell asleep on the jet D On a different time, this a Audemars Piguet A See eight bad bitches like the brand new 'Vette (Skrrt) D We gon' get 'em all, why the fuck I would I stress A Think I need rehab, I'm addicted to a check D And she gon' say it's love but she know I want the sex, bitch Gm Don't you dare leave a hickey on my neck D 'Cause the Cullinan massage my back, I'm stressed (I'm stressed) Gm Stars in the roof, get the bitch undressed D With an ass like that, I forget my ex (Haha) A Racks like this meant that God, I'm blessed D I been on top, I should beat my chest Gm Tell you that she loyal, we gon' put her to the test D Wanna lose your bitch? Well, then be my guest A 'Cause I been real cold in this Moncler vest CHORUS: D I don't need new friends, I don't like fake friends Gm Only here to make M's, call when the check in D I don't like partial, need a whole backend A Fresh outta London, she still got a accent D The crib like a palace, I took her to 'Basas Gm If he want a feature, then we gotta tax him D I got me a bad bitch, the cover of Maxim A The comments is shook up, they throwin' a tantrum, yeah (Yeah) POST-CHORUS: D Gm D Wrist is flooded, no competition, can't listen, ain't talkin' 'bout shit D A D I'm lit, they know it, they wanna hate on the music but I'm makin' hits D Gm D These hunnids, I throw 'em, I need like eighty a show, that's some minimum shit D A I leave the house and I'm wearin' some shit D you can't get and I swear this shit cost like a brick