
Karaoke Live: sing this song → TRELL NOVA opened it for karaoke: their instrumental, their lyrics on a clock. Premium sings; everyone listens and votes.
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Leave him on read! (on read)
He don't text back till the club let out
Leave him on read! (on read)
I'm outside now, you can hear the 808 from your couch
Girl, you ain't crazy, you just tired, and I see it
He keep you on a shelf like he scared somebody'll need it
Leave him on read! (on read)
Put your shoes on. I'm not askin' twice. I'm out front.
It's two fifty-three, your name light my phone up
"You up?" Nah, I'm up-up, I been up since you broke up
That's the third time this month that he "needed space"
He got all this space and still can't find your birthday (damn)
I was there when you moved, I was carryin' the couch
He was "on the way" for four hours. Never made it to the house.
I ain't sayin' I'm a saint, I got screenshots of my own
But I never made you wonder if you sleepin' here alone
Candler Road, Waffle House, same booth in the back
You was cryin' in your hashbrowns. I ain't never seen him do that.
Leave him on read! (on read)
He don't text back till the club let out
Leave him on read! (on read)
I'm outside now, you can hear the 808 from your couch
He post you on the close friends, never on the main (never)
That's a man with a backup and a backup for the rain
You been shrinkin' yourself just to fit in his excuse
I like you loud. I like you late. I like you with the attitude. (yeah)
I'll be real, I want you bad, that's the ugly and the true
But I'd tell you this the same if I ain't never wanted you
Your mama don't like him. Your dog don't like him. (woof)
Your best friend got a group chat and the name of it is "why him"
So what's it gon' be? I got the car runnin' hot
Either I'm your bad decision or I'm the best one that you got
Three dots... (three dots)
Three dots... then nothin' (nothin')
How long you gon' stare at that screen?
(LEAVE HIM ON READ!)
Leave him on read! (on read)
He don't text back till the club let out
Leave him on read! (on read)
I'm outside now, you can hear the 808 from your couch
Girl, you ain't crazy, you just tired, and I see it
Let him wonder where you at for once. Let him feel it.
Leave him on read!
East Atlanta, Candler Road. He sings, but over drums that would hold a rapper, and he says the quiet part out loud. Not a loverman. The one who tells you the truth at 3 a.m. and still means it in the morning.