Lyrics
Hit-Boy
Niggas thought that it was over, bitch I think not
If I talk to this bitch nice, she'll give me top
You niggas still ain't seeing 10, y'all ain't seeing guap
And I just put it in her stomach, that's her G-spot
Everybody think that bitch loyal, we don't see not
Spent 900 on some kicks, that's like Reeboks
All these colors in my chain, I'm a peacock
And you the type to pull the trigger while it's decocked
You play dumb and go blind when you see opps
And his bitch tried to pull the Jack out the bean stalk
And my mama raised a man, I ain't need pops
If they don't want to pay no homage, bitch we need props (bitch)
Young nigga lane switching in that foreign
I ain't nothin' like your nigga 'cause he broke and boring
If I put that on gang, on gang, bitch we scoring
Brodie bro up the Glock and got to shooting like he Jordan
You ain't finna do shit, don't speak on shit
Give a fuck about your nigga, he don't be on shit
I don't need no nigga, I don't need no bitch
I'ma tell you what it is and I don't need no lip
I would if I could, I can't speak on it
That chain ain't him, ain't no D on it
And this a tennis, not no row chain
And brodie bro on probation using bro name
Ay, throw it back, let me see something
You ain't never left the hood, you ain't see nothing
Real niggas just gon' shoot with less discussion
Niggas still claim that block but don't be from it
Said you on me, when you see me, better buss then
Bought a Jag' the first time I ever touched ten
Grimey nigga, ain't no bitch want to fuck then
Ring the bell, kick the do', then we rush in
Really in the field, bitch we outside sliding
Niggas said they really in the field, but they hiding
Young fly nigga, shit I coulda been a pilot
All I talk is cash, broke nigga stay silent
Hop up out the Wraith, doors on that suicide shit
I don't even want to fuck your bitch, too much mileage
You the type to walk the whole mall, never buy shit
Pussy nigga thinking I'm a lick, come and try it
Young nigga lane switching in that foreign
I ain't nothin' like your nigga 'cause he broke and boring
If I put that on gang, on gang, bitch we scoring
Brodie bro up the Glock and got to shooting like he Jordan
You ain't finna do shit, don't speak on shit
Give a fuck about your nigga, he don't be on shit
I don't need no nigga, I don't need no bitch
I'ma tell you what it is and I don't need no lip
Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Chauncey A. Hollis, Jabbar Kingston Brown Jr., Juwon Lee, Wayman Barrow Jr.
Niggas thought that it was over, bitch I think not
If I talk to this bitch nice, she'll give me top
You niggas still ain't seeing 10, y'all ain't seeing guap
And I just put it in her stomach, that's her G-spot
Everybody think that bitch loyal, we don't see not
Spent 900 on some kicks, that's like Reeboks
All these colors in my chain, I'm a peacock
And you the type to pull the trigger while it's decocked
You play dumb and go blind when you see opps
And his bitch tried to pull the Jack out the bean stalk
And my mama raised a man, I ain't need pops
If they don't want to pay no homage, bitch we need props (bitch)
Young nigga lane switching in that foreign
I ain't nothin' like your nigga 'cause he broke and boring
If I put that on gang, on gang, bitch we scoring
Brodie bro up the Glock and got to shooting like he Jordan
You ain't finna do shit, don't speak on shit
Give a fuck about your nigga, he don't be on shit
I don't need no nigga, I don't need no bitch
I'ma tell you what it is and I don't need no lip
I would if I could, I can't speak on it
That chain ain't him, ain't no D on it
And this a tennis, not no row chain
And brodie bro on probation using bro name
Ay, throw it back, let me see something
You ain't never left the hood, you ain't see nothing
Real niggas just gon' shoot with less discussion
Niggas still claim that block but don't be from it
Said you on me, when you see me, better buss then
Bought a Jag' the first time I ever touched ten
Grimey nigga, ain't no bitch want to fuck then
Ring the bell, kick the do', then we rush in
Really in the field, bitch we outside sliding
Niggas said they really in the field, but they hiding
Young fly nigga, shit I coulda been a pilot
All I talk is cash, broke nigga stay silent
Hop up out the Wraith, doors on that suicide shit
I don't even want to fuck your bitch, too much mileage
You the type to walk the whole mall, never buy shit
Pussy nigga thinking I'm a lick, come and try it
Young nigga lane switching in that foreign
I ain't nothin' like your nigga 'cause he broke and boring
If I put that on gang, on gang, bitch we scoring
Brodie bro up the Glock and got to shooting like he Jordan
You ain't finna do shit, don't speak on shit
Give a fuck about your nigga, he don't be on shit
I don't need no nigga, I don't need no bitch
I'ma tell you what it is and I don't need no lip
Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Chauncey A. Hollis, Jabbar Kingston Brown Jr., Juwon Lee, Wayman Barrow Jr.