The song "Fortnight" by Taylor Swift and Post Malone tells a story about strong feelings, complicated relationships, and secret wishes. It talks about love, betrayal, and wanting someone who doesn't feel the same. The word "fortnight" shows short-lived happiness and guilty pleasures, leading to sadness. It shows how messy relationships can be and the results of hiding emotions. “I was supposed to be sent away / But they forgot to come and get me,” she kickstarts the song in the first verse with lines suggesting an admission to a hospital for people with mental illnesses. She goes in the verse admitting her lover is the reason why she is like this. In the chorus, she sings about their time in love and reflects on how he has now settled with someone else. “I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary / And I love you, it’s ruining my life,” on the second verse she details her struggles to forget about him and the negative effects of her failure. “Thought of callin’ ya, but you won’t pick up / ‘Nother fortnight lost in America,” Post Malone sings in the outro.
[Repeat: x2]
"Niggas bit off Nas shit"
"Admit it, you bit it"
"Niggas bit off Nas shit, niggas, niggas, bit off, Nas shit"
"Admit it, you bit it, bit it"
You can be a ridah and ride, or a coward and hide
Either way you go against me, you still gon' die
I got four macs, a few nines, I'm ready for beef
You wanna talk, it ain't about money, then let it be brief
I need a drop for when it's a hot, a hummer for when it's cold
An ill attorney's in my corner when these fake niggas fold
The shit I kick fuck with niggas mentally, makes them wanna mention me
And see me doing a quarter century in the penitentiary
Nastradamus predicted 50's the future, that's a fact money
I run up on your workers with the mac, like where that pack money
I'm a tell y'all what papi told me
I got what you need, 19,5 a key
I stay catching a stunt, frontin' in somethin' mean
And I'll clap any nigga for the right amount of cream
Run up on them all with the same problem solver
Beat up ass, tape on the handle, trey eight revolver
What!
[Chorus: x2]
Project's too hot, niggas better hope we never hit rock
'Cause then we gonna run up in your spot
Screamin' get the fuck on the floor, give us the ro'
Aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo
I'm like sugar Shane Mosley, it ain't no beef
You're staring, a ticket holder that sits in row three
Next to Ron Artest and Kobe
Yo I woulda went pro too, then I let them Phillies slow me
I'm like a black man's asthma, seeking a pump
Breathin' deeper when I'm creeping up
Y'all need to fuck with the tightest, I stick niggas
Encephalitis leavin' whole families in silence
My virus is obvious, past on to most rap fiends
Uncured, ain't no vaccine
Last seen at the automatic teller machine, maxing out
Or in the studio booth, blacking out
It's con-ed style, real twisted, I disappear on some Blair Witch shit
Comin' back I'm rich kid
Either or, you can't stop me with my feet in the door
Or walk away from the street or the morgue, play your part, nigga.
Project's too hot, niggas better hope we never hit rock
'Cause then we gonna run up in your spot
"Niggas bit off nas"
"Admit it, you bit it"
"Tell these niggas somethin', God"
What, yo
I disturb niggas and white boys, with five pointed stars
Tatted on they arms, pimp your moms, like I'm magic Don Juan
From queens to Hong Kong, weed in the bong
We smoke that, leave our minks on the coat rack
Those that plot on me, nine times outta ten the nine is on me
Feds search the god, but nothin' they find on me
When I rap don't wait to clap applaud sooner
Unless you hate a nigga like George Bush Jr., I bring awkward to you
Porsche maneuvers through the city like new york sewers
Stinkin' up the air, central park, horse manure
Rims is 22 inches, Benz suspensions
22 inch dick when I'm pimpin'
Impotent you niggas get me sick, wanna be soundin' like
You knowin' my arithmetic, but we don't sound alike
50 cent with bravehearted, we ride to the grave depart us
You fake niggas imitate what I started, let's go
"Niggas bit off Nas shit"
"Admit it, you bit it"
"Niggas bit off Nas shit, niggas, niggas, bit off, Nas shit"
"Admit it, you bit it, bit it"
[Chorus]
"Niggas bit off Nas shit"
"Admit it, you bit it"
"Niggas bit off Nas shit, niggas, niggas, bit off, Nas shit"
"Admit it, you bit it, bit it"
You can be a ridah and ride, or a coward and hide
Either way you go against me, you still gon' die
I got four macs, a few nines, I'm ready for beef
You wanna talk, it ain't about money, then let it be brief
I need a drop for when it's a hot, a hummer for when it's cold
An ill attorney's in my corner when these fake niggas fold
The shit I kick fuck with niggas mentally, makes them wanna mention me
And see me doing a quarter century in the penitentiary
Nastradamus predicted 50's the future, that's a fact money
I run up on your workers with the mac, like where that pack money
I'm a tell y'all what papi told me
I got what you need, 19,5 a key
I stay catching a stunt, frontin' in somethin' mean
And I'll clap any nigga for the right amount of cream
Run up on them all with the same problem solver
Beat up ass, tape on the handle, trey eight revolver
What!
[Chorus: x2]
Project's too hot, niggas better hope we never hit rock
'Cause then we gonna run up in your spot
Screamin' get the fuck on the floor, give us the ro'
Aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo
I'm like sugar Shane Mosley, it ain't no beef
You're staring, a ticket holder that sits in row three
Next to Ron Artest and Kobe
Yo I woulda went pro too, then I let them Phillies slow me
I'm like a black man's asthma, seeking a pump
Breathin' deeper when I'm creeping up
Y'all need to fuck with the tightest, I stick niggas
Encephalitis leavin' whole families in silence
My virus is obvious, past on to most rap fiends
Uncured, ain't no vaccine
Last seen at the automatic teller machine, maxing out
Or in the studio booth, blacking out
It's con-ed style, real twisted, I disappear on some Blair Witch shit
Comin' back I'm rich kid
Either or, you can't stop me with my feet in the door
Or walk away from the street or the morgue, play your part, nigga.
Project's too hot, niggas better hope we never hit rock
'Cause then we gonna run up in your spot
"Niggas bit off nas"
"Admit it, you bit it"
"Tell these niggas somethin', God"
What, yo
I disturb niggas and white boys, with five pointed stars
Tatted on they arms, pimp your moms, like I'm magic Don Juan
From queens to Hong Kong, weed in the bong
We smoke that, leave our minks on the coat rack
Those that plot on me, nine times outta ten the nine is on me
Feds search the god, but nothin' they find on me
When I rap don't wait to clap applaud sooner
Unless you hate a nigga like George Bush Jr., I bring awkward to you
Porsche maneuvers through the city like new york sewers
Stinkin' up the air, central park, horse manure
Rims is 22 inches, Benz suspensions
22 inch dick when I'm pimpin'
Impotent you niggas get me sick, wanna be soundin' like
You knowin' my arithmetic, but we don't sound alike
50 cent with bravehearted, we ride to the grave depart us
You fake niggas imitate what I started, let's go
"Niggas bit off Nas shit"
"Admit it, you bit it"
"Niggas bit off Nas shit, niggas, niggas, bit off, Nas shit"
"Admit it, you bit it, bit it"
[Chorus]
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
Too Hot Lyrics as written by Curtis James Jackson Jermain Anthony Baxter
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, O/B/O DistroKid, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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Fortnight
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Page
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