Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I'm That N*gga, artist - Robb Bank$. Date of issue: 22.04.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
I'm That N*gga |
| Sure, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure |
| S.S. shit, nigga |
| Mind ya business |
| I’m gettin' head while the phone ring |
| I’m that nigga, I’m that nigga, I’m that nigga |
| Still that nigga, still that nigga, still that nigga |
| I been that nigga, I been that nigga, I been that nigga |
| Oh that’s yo' nigga? |
| Oh that’s yo' nigga? |
| Ho, fuck yo' nigga! |
| Suck my whole D, I get on that booty like a pirate |
| Fire red 911, take a moment of silence |
| Asked for a .5 or a .6 so broke might feel bad, might front you a whole |
| Y’all got the wrong nigga, you seen what happen at that A$AP show |
| Goddamn, I might need a shot of prometh' straight |
| I take your bitch on a date |
| Down south tone, all downed in the attire |
| Got a dunk, on deuces, and only Broward touch the tires |
| Got a 20-aged Malaysian babe, got a daughter by the month of May |
| Dooney snort a molly with her just so she stay comfortable |
| Yeah I said yo' government in my song |
| Well, ain’t that 'bout a bitch? |
| Ho niggas parting their lace fronts, talm' bout how they gon' split my wig, shit |
| (Y'all niggas pie!) |
| You a lie (lie!), and I understand why |
| You and your bitch been so comfy, and her pussy so fie |
| I’d be sleep too if I ain’t sell out and come out of hibernation 'fore a nigga |
| leap |
| Niggas put a dog face in they tee and try to act like they thoroughbred |
| I say turn the lights on, Savage looking for her |
| Corner store white tee, them bitches on the beach think I’m a fucking fashion |
| icon, bitch |
| Salt water tears when I tell a bitch my real name |
| But woe, no complaints from over there |
| If she saw it look like my dick grew for a hundred years, bitch! |
| Lip-bitin' animal |
| No fronts, need collateral for mine |
| And yo' bitch wish a nigga would, like she ask for the dick 3 times |
| And there ain’t no stems picked out mine, so baggage keeping count of the cake |
| Like birthday candles |
| Mix that yellow xan' with that green xan' got me feeling like a new nigga |
| And that new bitch ass that’s so thick |
| I don’t much know how to put my lips on her |
| It’s the wizard of the O-Z, call that white girl Dorothy |
| And I can’t believe I let you in my home, bitch |
| But Florida ain’t Kansas |
| But my booster sent you off, better not forget shit |
| Clickin' red bottom heels won’t get your ass back to my crib |
| Panamera; |
| talk about it, cause I bought it; |
| White Sprite |
| Ball with loose dollars, I color contrast like an artist, shit |
| Basquiat, Basquiat, say she want her son to look like Basquiat |
| Well, baby, let’s repopulate |
| Only things that I don’t have, is that it can’t be gift wrapped, shit |
| 'Port burning, Agent Provocateur showing |
| Tone of the skin, Alaskan, so she don’t get wet, she start snowing |
| And she a bad bitch, hit the pole like Edie Sedgewick |
| Mod bitches only come in black in white |
| But I put some color in her beverage |
| Still got my Gunrise boo and she only smoke bouquet |
| If I buy her that Miu Miu, maybe she’ll raise my Mewtwo |