Record Store Day

[Intro]

I love girls, girls, girls, girls

Girls in record stores

Yo your taste says a lot

And based on what you got

We might be able to put each other on

I love girls, girls, girls, girls

Girls in record stores

Put your number on this receipt

I’ll scoop you in the jeep

And show you my collection in the morn’

[Verse 1]

Knowing mine is rare like, like

You spending money in here like

Three double takes before you disappear right

That's a six eye "Kind Of Blue" type of rare sight

You caught that, you caught the details

You being record store clientele don't even seem real

Pardon me love, my name is Skyler, and honestly love

I couldn't tell the last time I saw part of a club

But I ghost write the records for who bought out the club

Both of my record collections could go start up a club

But I'm out the way, I prefer the back

The type to spend a bottle service tab on a Donald Byrd slab

Slow crawl but the feeling kinda works fast

The highs of it like when you started your first stash

And I'm somewhere at a band, give or take

And most of them come with a band from like '68, old soul

Back to the mode though, more importantly where your phone yo?

You could be a Savage x Fenty logo

And I'm with it as soon as a playlist start up and loop back

That'll be A.S.A.P if you cool with that

[Chorus]

‘Cause it was record store day

And she was all in the aisles

Blowing down change

Habits running wild

Thumbing through a crate

Walking ‘round with a jewel that she found singing

[Verse 2]

You moving like you been here before

You look as good as you sound when you veer off

I'm crate digging so that I can't stare no more

Treat you like a test press, I just wanna hear it all

I'm talking Freddie Hubbard, you talking Isley’s

I'm talking Jones Girls, you talking Mobb Deep

I'm talking hearing what you be talking surprised me

Feel like I did the same, we got it honestly

'Cause check it you can reach and I can teach and you can throw me your tab

I mean, I'm from Brooklyn so you know I'ma brag

With my toothpick dragging, corner store connected

But on the flip I'm Toro Y Moi eclectic

Maybe I'm conflicted, maybe I'm invested

In all of this Griselda and this Gil Scott-Heron

I'm a sucker for cornrows and manicured toes

And 33 and a third being your Morse code

Picking out who gonn' serenade while you levitate

Long enough to literally set the record straight, ha

But for now it's whatever til' whenever

With both of us addicted at this register together, Purple Rain shit