Lyrics Flirt - PRhyme

Flirt

You ever have a bad bitch try to kick it with you in your Twitter DMs?
I have—been a statistic and demonstrated against
Wicked minds of the twisted bitches challengin' scrubs
I had a bitch expose me on MediaTakeOut
And after her 15 minutes of fame was up
She hit my phone back apologizin', askin', «Can we still fuck?»
Bitch, please, miss me—I'm paid as hell
I got the game locked—arcades in jail
I wish my uncle wouldn’t have died, he woulda loved to see this
Find you a nigga who do molly with a buzz and beat it
I’m 'bout to walk up in this restaurant, like the upper echelon
Is you comin'?
Guess you not—bitch, I’ll call you
I find it hi-larious when bad-ass bitches try to get your attention
Be lookin' like fish out of water, it be for no (no) reason
A chick’ll drop a pencil and go, «Oh, (oh) Jesus»
Just to bend down to get this shit to show (show) cleavage
Haha, why can’t y’all just ask a nigga for his number like we do y’all?
I’ll tell you, women don’t know how to flirt
And the ones that’s bad, they don’t even gotta work
That’s real shit
I see it all the time, anytime I shine
I’m just acknowledgin', but I’m not tryna play y’all
This is it (what?) Bad bitches can’t flirt good for shit
This is it (what?) They used to me comin' out the dick
Real quick (what?) like this is it, (what?)
This is it (what?) Woo!
(what?) Woo!
(what?) Woo!
Women don’t know how to flirt («That's right»)
You know how I come in
Talk to 'em, Chainz!
Okay, came up the street like a ladder—Aladdin
I bust through the hole like McFadden on Madden
A matter of fact, that’s a after effect
If the crime don’t fit, then I’m takin' it back
Now, fuckin' on this bitch who wear eye contacts
And I pulled a bitch off of eye contact
And I had the racks since she had a nice rack
Met her at Bergdorf, right by the nice racks
She said, «Should I get a shirt to match with the hat?
Or should I get the shoes that match with the slacks?»
Yeah, said it’s for her man, ain’t gotta be, they comin'
Had a lil' Uzi on me—DJ Drama
Never trust a bitch, and, yeah—I never will
Okay, sometimes—if she got sex appeal
I meant to say—I like to have sex and take some pills
I meant to say—I like to relax and make a mill'
I meant to say—I like to relax and make a meal
I mean, they both the same thing, but I ain’t talkin' grill
I ain’t talkin' dinner, I ain’t talkin' supper, this the bloodsucker
Met the bitch at FuddRucker off Amityville
She had a man on the real, he had his hand on the steel
Fucked in the Camry still, I shoulda passed on the real
Would have assist with her ass, I got more dimes than a pass
And if I knew your dude was crazy, I wouldn’t have let me smash
I see it all the time, anytime I shine
I’m just acknowledgin', but I’m not tryna play y’all
This is it (what?) Bad bitches can’t flirt good for shit
This is it (what?) They used to me comin' out the dick
Real quick (what?) like this is it, (what?)
This is it (what?) Woo!
(what?) Woo!
(what?) Woo!
Women don’t know how to flirt («That's right»)
Yo, Chainz, Royce
Remember PRhyme 1?
Remember when I said, «Word?
That’s how you feel up on this track?
Let a bitch come and try to shit on that!»
Yeah, and on that note;
move on to the next one!
Hahahahahahahahaha!