| I wasn’t born last night
|
| I know these hoes ain’t right
|
| But you was blowing up her phone last night
|
| But she ain’t have her ringer nor her ring on last night, oh
|
| Nigga, that’s that nerve
|
| Why give a bitch your heart
|
| When she rather have a purse?
|
| Why give a bitch your inch
|
| When she rather have nine?
|
| You know how the game goes
|
| She be mine by half time, I’m the shit, oh
|
| Nigga, that’s that nerve
|
| You all about her, and she all about hers
|
| Birdman Junior in this bitch, no flamingos
|
| And I done did everything but trust these hoes
|
| (CB fuck with me!)
|
| When a rich nigga want you
|
| And your nigga can’t do nothing for ya
|
| These hoes ain’t loyal
|
| These hoes ain’t loyal
|
| Yeah, yeah, let me see
|
| Just got rich
|
| Took a broke nigga’s bitch
|
| I can make a broke bitch rich
|
| But I don’t fuck with broke bitches
|
| Got a white girl with some fake titties
|
| I took her to The Bay with me
|
| Eyes closed smoking marijuana
|
| Rolling up that Bob Marley, I’m a rasta
|
| She wanna do drugs, smoke weed, get drunk
|
| She wanna see a nigga trap
|
| She wanna fuck all the rappers
|
| Black girl with a big booty
|
| If she a bad bitch, let’s get to it (right away)
|
| We up in this club
|
| Bring me the bottles
|
| I know, girl, that you came in this bitch with your man
|
| That’s a no-no, girl
|
| All this money in the air
|
| I wanna see you dance
|
| Uh
|
| Rich young nigga
|
| Name got bigger and my change got bigger
|
| So my chains got bigger
|
| Ferrari, Jaguar, switching four lanes
|
| With the top down screaming out, «Money ain’t a thing!»
|
| Ha, me and CB in the bay with her
|
| I send her back home so you can lay with her
|
| Okay, let’s talk about this ice that I’m carrying
|
| All these karats like I’m a fucking vegetarian
|
| Shout-out Weezy F., keep a red bone wet
|
| Rose Rolex, hoes on deck
|
| She know I got a cheque
|
| Do it too good when she ride that dick
|
| Man I wouldn’t trust that bitch
|
| No!
|
| Come on, come on, girl
|
| Why you fronting?
|
| Baby, show me something
|
| When I call her, she gon' leave
|
| And I bet that bottom dollar she gon' cheat
|
| Come on, come on, girl
|
| Why you fronting?
|
| Baby, show me something
|
| You just spent your bread on her
|
| And it’s all for nothing |