Enough/Better
Y'all hoes done fucked up (bitch, don't make me put my wig in a rubber band)
What? (Slap a bitch down with the fuck shit)
I'm talking to you, hoe (y'all hoes better tighten up)
Enough is enough, bitch, City Girls with the fuck shit
Nah, don't blame it on you drunk bitch (nah)
See we cajole a hoe, the whole clique gon' follow, hoe (bitch)
Be at your door like Dominos, and your main nigga love me (haha)
Bruh been tryna fuck me
For the bread, walk him like a puppy (walk him)
It ain't no love for you both side playing hoes
Play with your kids or the radio, bitch
Another comma, millionaire status
A cool one, 20 on the Patek
Dope bitch magic
I live a poor bitch dreams (yeah)
Coco Chanel me, please
Y'all hoes too dangerous (dangerous)
In my comments, talking crazy (crazy)
But I can't make no bitch famous (nah)
City Girls ain't changing
But shit, how could you blame me? (Blame me)
Being me made me famous
Titties sitting, no sports bra (yeah)
Fuck a nigga in a sports car (skrrt)
Spike his drink at a sports bar
Y'all hoes make me sick, always cuffing tricks
Calling phones, talking slick
Lil' bitch, who taught you? Mama should abort you
If you in my view, I would've pulled up and fought you (yeah)
But I'm way up, you bitches too low
New ass, new teeth, bitch, check out the glow (period)
Bitch, don't make put my wig in a rubber band (band)
Slap a bitch down with the fuck shit
Y'all hoes better tighten up
Didn't think bitches like us could do better
From Dade County, straight to Coachella
My heart cold, better bring two sweaters
And your best bitch, we'll take whoever
Gutter bitch, grace the covers of the billboards
Locked up, nominated, BET awards
City Girls, talk that shit they scream
Real ass bitch, I ain't flex for streams
I'm fresh out, niggas coming in varieties
I'm fighting loss, fighting demons, and anxiety
I really used to sleep on palettes
Now I'm sitting in the condo like it's a palace, uh
Main bitch locked up, had to hold it down (down)
With a baby in my stomach at the Rolling Loud (facts)
Uh, kept you bitches out my game room (period
'Cause y'all the same fake hoes from The Shade Room (Shade Room)
I came from running outta stores to award shows (blessed)
Mama, we made it, can't wait 'til you come home
Shot up my Benz, I was pregnant, I was seven months (damn)
Me and baby Summer too blessed up (blessed up)
Now everybody want a verse from us
All the trappers wanna go and cop a purse for us
Bought a bag to the hood when I touch down (touch down)
Did this shit for Dade County, yeah, we up now (Miami)
Don't make me put this wig in a rubber band again
Still the same, ain't changed, just changed where I live
What? (Slap a bitch down with the fuck shit)
I'm talking to you, hoe (y'all hoes better tighten up)
Enough is enough, bitch, City Girls with the fuck shit
Nah, don't blame it on you drunk bitch (nah)
See we cajole a hoe, the whole clique gon' follow, hoe (bitch)
Be at your door like Dominos, and your main nigga love me (haha)
Bruh been tryna fuck me
For the bread, walk him like a puppy (walk him)
It ain't no love for you both side playing hoes
Play with your kids or the radio, bitch
Another comma, millionaire status
A cool one, 20 on the Patek
Dope bitch magic
I live a poor bitch dreams (yeah)
Coco Chanel me, please
Y'all hoes too dangerous (dangerous)
In my comments, talking crazy (crazy)
But I can't make no bitch famous (nah)
City Girls ain't changing
But shit, how could you blame me? (Blame me)
Being me made me famous
Titties sitting, no sports bra (yeah)
Fuck a nigga in a sports car (skrrt)
Spike his drink at a sports bar
Y'all hoes make me sick, always cuffing tricks
Calling phones, talking slick
Lil' bitch, who taught you? Mama should abort you
If you in my view, I would've pulled up and fought you (yeah)
But I'm way up, you bitches too low
New ass, new teeth, bitch, check out the glow (period)
Bitch, don't make put my wig in a rubber band (band)
Slap a bitch down with the fuck shit
Y'all hoes better tighten up
Didn't think bitches like us could do better
From Dade County, straight to Coachella
My heart cold, better bring two sweaters
And your best bitch, we'll take whoever
Gutter bitch, grace the covers of the billboards
Locked up, nominated, BET awards
City Girls, talk that shit they scream
Real ass bitch, I ain't flex for streams
I'm fresh out, niggas coming in varieties
I'm fighting loss, fighting demons, and anxiety
I really used to sleep on palettes
Now I'm sitting in the condo like it's a palace, uh
Main bitch locked up, had to hold it down (down)
With a baby in my stomach at the Rolling Loud (facts)
Uh, kept you bitches out my game room (period
'Cause y'all the same fake hoes from The Shade Room (Shade Room)
I came from running outta stores to award shows (blessed)
Mama, we made it, can't wait 'til you come home
Shot up my Benz, I was pregnant, I was seven months (damn)
Me and baby Summer too blessed up (blessed up)
Now everybody want a verse from us
All the trappers wanna go and cop a purse for us
Bought a bag to the hood when I touch down (touch down)
Did this shit for Dade County, yeah, we up now (Miami)
Don't make me put this wig in a rubber band again
Still the same, ain't changed, just changed where I live
Credits
Writer(s): Tyrone Alexander Nelms, Marvin Beauville, Jatavia Johnson, Kinta Cox, Caresha Brownlee, Shawn Pierre
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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