Lyrics Won't Be Coming Back - Baby

Won't Be Coming Back

You under smell it, we got’s to get some money baby
Ma I got to look good
We got to get this cheese nigga
Nigga flip on the block, the birds flew in
I pick up a bite, I attend to the wind
Shit, hungry dogs lyin town, dogs on the ground
Niggas hustlin, and pimpin tryna put it down
Pitch off the mound, that third world clown
We hustle for the money, we scramble for the pound
It’s pimpin uptown, the boy in the lounge
Put the ice on the shelf, put the whips up clown
So put the whips up nigga, the Bird’s in town
We tryna get the money, the jewels, the brown
Big houses, pimpin, shine uptown
Never gon' stop, we millionaire bound, be-atch
Mr. Pimp Pickle, walk wit a wiggle
Keep a project bitch, and she gotta have that giggle
It’s «Sex In the City» every time she get wit me
Wit her — up and down, and up — she pussy whipped
But her pimp gon' take it, or pull it out and break it off
Stop for ya pop, look her in her face, then shake it off
A different day another dollar, see ya later I will holla
Valet please could you bring around my Impala
I got to go, and you got to leave
I’m in the wind baby, pleave believe
That you won’t be coming back
Get yo hat, yo coat
And walk on out the do'
Cause you won’t be, coming back
It ain’t nothin to a balla ma, cook somethin right
I need some chicken, French fries, need it off top
Lace my ride, black wall my tires
Bought mami to the mall, Stiletto boots, skirt tie
I worked her ride, I beamed her a line
She love a balla baby, Birdman pimp fly
Smoke hydro, we do it all night
Mannie Fresh, Baby, CMR for life
Lil' funky, nasty bitch, I pay you to fuck
For what bitch, better catch ya cut
I’m not a rat’s haven, for hoes, I’mma piiiimp
Make them hoes call me Caddy Daddy Sliiiim
I’mma mac’a, break a gear and a game
Show a hotter hustle niggas, and bring head of the change
Who you think brought that Caddy, and that brand new Range
Wit them 24's on 'em, and all that blang — bitch
w/ (ad-libs)
I could give you what you want ma, you give me what I need
Make ya fly like a bird, and stay dressed to a T
Wit Stunna on ya neck, Smith-N-Wesson on the seat
Kitchen countin loot, I’m in the streets gettin money
Pimpin is a natural, on hoes I’m wit it
You never ride accurate, just dance and business
And we do the best of thangs, and we never slow down
We keep it all hood, cause that’s how it’s goin out
Slide in this ma, go holla at ya dogs
And have a good time, and head to the mall
I’mma take you to the block, wit the crack and mac
But it’s the Birdman daddy, got the stacks of stacks
w/ (ad-libs)