Uh, hello, can I speak to uh, uh,
Yeah you know who you are
Look, you had no idea what ya dealing with
Something on some of this realest shit
Pop champagne yeah I'll give you a sip
'Bout to go dumb how come,
Yeah, that's my bitch

That's my bitch, sh-shorty right there
That's my bitch, that's my bitch

I've been waiting for a long long time
Just to get off and throw my hands up high
And live my life, and live my life
Just to get off and throw my hands up high

I paid for them titties, get your own
It ain't safe in the city, watch the throne
She say I care more about them Basquion's, Basquiats
She learning a new word, it's yacht
Blew the world up as soon as I hit the club with her
Too Short called, told me "I fell in love with her"
Seen by actors, ball players and drug dealers
And some lesbians that never loved niggas
Twisted love story "True Romance"
Mary Magdalene from a pole dance
I'm a freak huh, rock star life
The second girl with us, that's our wife
Hey boys and girls, I got a new riddle
Who's the new old perv that's tryna play second fiddle?
No disrespect, I'm not tryna belittle
But my dick worth money I put Monie in the middle

I've been waiting for a long long time (Where she at? In the middle)
Just to get off and throw my hands up high
And live my life, and live my life
Just to get off and throw my hands up high, high, high, high

Swilling little licks and mixes 'til mornin'
I'm yearnin', ooh, yeah
Could I maybe have another dab of your potion?
Stop motion, ooh, yeah

Go harder than a nigga for a nigga go figure
Told me "keep my own money" if we ever did split up
How can somethin' so gangsta be so pretty in pictures?
Ripped jeans and a blazer and some Louboutin slippers
Uh, Picasso was alive he woulda made her
That's right nigga Mona Lisa can't fade her
I mean Marilyn Monroe, she's quite nice
But why all the pretty icons always all white?
Put some colored girls in the MoMA
Half these broads ain't got nothing on Willona
Don't make me bring Thelma in it
Bring Halle, bring Penélope and Salma in it
Back to my Beyoncés
You deserve three stacks word to Andre
Call Larry Gagosian, you belong in museums
You belong in Vintage clothes crushing the whole building
You belong with niggas who used to be known for dope dealing
You too dope for any of those civilians
Now shoo trigga, stop looking at her tits
Get ya own dog ya heard?
That's my bitch

I've been waiting for a long long time
Just to get off and throw my hands up high
And live my life, and live my life
Just to get off and throw my hands up high, high, high, high

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Bobby Byrd, James Brown, Jeffrey Bhasker, Jeremiah P. Lordan, Justin Deyarmond Edison Vernon, Kamaal Ibn John Fareed, Kanye West, Ronald Lenhoff, Shawn C Carter