| No pussyhole can come in our place
|
| In our arena, in our establishment
|
| And try talk the talk and walk the walk
|
| And act like them don’t know where we from
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| Like we don’t have the biggest in hundred
|
| Iggy, what you say?
|
| What you say?
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| Bullet!
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| Classic, Sinatra
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| Bad, Phantom of the Opera
|
| Shuffle the deck, I be the queen in the pack
|
| Gotcha, Lady Patra
|
| Paper planes, roger that, 10−4
|
| Got money, been had it, still gettin' more
|
| Oh y’all in the building, but on different floors
|
| Y’all couldn’t see it how we see it on ya tippie-toes
|
| Iggy so killing, so pretty, still pretty
|
| Talkin' hits on hits, McGuire, Bonds, Griffey
|
| Mash it up bring the queens of the dancehall with me
|
| Pearl handle on the pistol, tell this world to come and get me
|
| And I’m thummin' through designers to pick which’ll fit me proper
|
| Paid dues, climbed through the ranks, but we ain’t Shabba
|
| Need me a rude boy, something straight out the shockers
|
| That could drive a girl crazy, all the way off my rocker
|
| Versaces over eyelids, lookin' like Biggie Poppa
|
| No they thought I wouldn’t make it, I’m lookin' like what’s the matter?
|
| But tell them money talks, and them man not saying nada
|
| This the new classic, signed sincerely, Lady Patra
|
| She’s special and phenomenal
|
| Body strong like a stallion
|
| She got me wild like an animal
|
| Chop it up, eh pon de floor
|
| Chop it up, eh pon de floor
|
| You put your whine dynamical
|
| Billion dollar shit, trillion dollar looks
|
| Tell them broke bitch, read it in the books
|
| Your thing turn up, you got Louis on your foot
|
| You know you got gully on the hook
|
| It’s the
|
| Said she need a real man
|
| Oh yes she want a real one
|
| So she fuck with a Jamaican
|
| Done (haha!)
|
| Your body lookin' like a billion dollar
|
| The baddest bitch you ever seen
|
| The one I want to be my baby mama
|
| I fuck her like my enemy |