[Intro] Yeah Uh From the block to the world Look [Verse 1] Came up in the hood by the takeout spot Soy sauce stains on my white tank top Uncle in the back playin’ cards, talkin’ stock I was at the corner store practicin’ my walk Mama said study, I was studyin’ the fiends Chrome on the curb, lil’ rust on the beams Chopstick kid with a big boy dream Tryna turn fried rice to a big boy scheme (yeah) Good kid, A’s on the door, that’s me Still know every single shortcut street Grandma burnin’ incense, prayin’ I don’t slip I’m just tryna find a queen with a mean lil’ lip [Chorus] I’m a good boy, bad taste I want a good girl with a bad face (yeah) Halo sittin’ on a lil’ waist Pray in the morning, make it shake late (shake, shake) Good boy, bad taste Saint in my texts, in my bed she ain’t (nah) Smile like Sunday, talk like she ain’t safe I’m a good boy, I just got bad taste (woo) [Verse 2] China man posted by the busted gate Bike on the fence, tryna elevate Neighbors say hi, old heads say grace I just see numbers, tryna flip this place Got both hands in two different worlds Left hand noodles, right hand pearls She walk past with the tongue ring showin’ Tat on her thigh say “keep on goin’” (damn) She like, “You too sweet, you the nice guy type” I said, “Nice don’t mean I won’t change your life” She laugh, “You the one mama gon’ trust” But her eyes say “ride,” not “sit on the bus” We at hot pot, she dip then tease Kick off heels, put her toes on my jeans Chopsticks pause, heart skip one beat She lick hot broth off her lips, say “eat” (oh) [Chorus] I’m a good boy, bad taste I want a good girl with a bad face (uh) Halo sittin’ on a lil’ waist Pray in the morning, make it shake late (shake it) Good boy, bad taste Saint in my texts, in my bed she ain’t (she ain’t) Smile like Sunday, talk like she ain’t safe I’m a good boy, I just got bad taste [Bridge] Got aunties sayin’ I should find a nice wife (nice wife) But they ain’t seen the way she move at night (at night) She say “teach me how to use chopsticks right” I say “cool,” she grab my neck, hold tight (hold tight) Halal wings, bubble tea date She in ripped jeans, sittin’ on my crate Whole hood watchin’ when she pass my gate They say I’m too pure, I say “blame my taste” (yeah) [Verse 3] Report card clean but my search ain’t pure Want a lil’ trouble I can never quite cure She got black eyeliner, big hoop rings Talks back quick to the dudes that fling I bring her home, incense in the air Grandma squint hard at the blue dyed hair She smile sweet, help wash those bowls Whisper in my ear what she’d do alone (shh) Two worlds clash in my little front room Tigress laugh in a porcelain tomb I’m tryna bridge gaps that they don’t wanna face Saint in my blood with a sinner in my taste (yeah) [Chorus] I’m a good boy, bad taste I want a good girl with a bad face Halo sittin’ on a lil’ waist Pray in the morning, make it shake late Good boy, bad taste Saint in my texts, in my bed she ain’t Smile like Sunday, talk like she ain’t safe I’m a good boy, I just got bad taste (uh) [Outro] From the hood to the gate where the red lamps hang Good kid, bad pick, that’s the song I sang Can’t change me

rap, Crunchy trap beat with swung drums and thick sub-bass; eerie plucks circling a menacing piano loop. Male vocals, playful but cocky delivery, triplet flows in the verses. Hook pops with stacked ad-libs and call-and-response shouts. Sparse intro, energy spikes in the chorus, final verse leans into rapid-fire rhyme before a cold, abrupt ending.

Good Boy, Bad Taste