CORRECT LYRICS
Y'all hoes done f**ked up
b*t*h, don't make me come out, wig in a rubber band (Band)
Wait
Slap a b*t*h down with the f**k sh*t
I'm talkin' to you ho
Y'all hoes better turn up
Enough is enough, b*t*h
City Girls with the f**k sh*t
Nah, don't blame it on you drunk b*t*h (Nah)
See we can wylin', hoe
The whole clique gon' follow hoe (b*t*h)
Be at your door like dominoes
And your main n***a love me (Haha)
Bruh been tryna f**k me
For the bread, walk him like a puppy (Walk him)
It ain't no love for you both side playin' hoes
Play with your kids or the radio, b*t*h
Another comma, millionaire status
A cool one, twenty on the Patek
Dope b*t*h, magic
I live a poor b*t*h dreams (Yeah)
Coco Chanel me, please
Y'all hoes too dangerous (Dangerous)
In my comments, talkin' crazy (Crazy)
But I can't make no b*t*h famous (Nah)
City Girls ain't changing
But sh*t, how could you blame me? (Blame me)
Bein' me made me famous
Titties sittin', no sports bra (Yeah)
f**k a n***a in a sports car (Skrrt)
Spike his drink at a sports bar
Y'all hoes make me sick
Always cuffin' tricks
Calling phones, talkin' slick
Lil' b*t*h, who taught you?
Mama should abort you
If you in my view, I would've pulled up and fought you
But I'm way up, you b*t*hes too low
New ass, new teeth, b*t*h, check out the glow (Period)
b*t*h, don't make put my wig in a rubber band (Band)
Slap a b*t*h down with the f**k sh*t (f**k sh*t)
Y'all hoes better turn up
Didn't think b*t*hes like us could do better
From Dade County, straight to Coachella
My heart cold, better bring two sweaters
And your best b*t*h, we'll take whoever
Gutter b*t*h, grace the cover of the billboards
Locked up, nominated, BET awards
City Girls, talk that sh*t they scream
Real ass b*t*h, I ain't flex for streams
I'm fresh out, n***as comin' in varieties
I'm fightin' loss, fightin' demons and anxiety
I really used to sleep on palettes
Now I'm sittin' in the condo like it's a palace
Main b*t*h locked up, had to hold it down (Down)
With a baby in my stomach at the Rolling Loud (Facts)
Uh, kept you b*t*hes out my game room (Period)
'Cause y'all the same fake hoes from The Shade Room (Shade room)
I came from runnin' outta stores to awards shows (Blessed)
Momma we made it, can't wait 'til you come
Shot up my Benz, 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 touchdown (Touchdown)
Did this sh*t for Dade County', yeah we up now
Man, don't make me put this wig in a rubber band again (Wig in a rubber band again)
Still the same, ain't changed, just changed where I live (Changed where I live)
Lyrics : Enough/Better
Y'all hoes done f**ked up
b*t*h, don't make me come out, wig in a rubber band (Band)
Wait
Slap a b*t*h down with the f**k sh*t
I'm talkin' to you ho
Y'all hoes better turn up
Enough is enough, b*t*h
City Girls with the f**k sh*t
Nah, don't blame it on you drunk b*t*h (Nah)
See we can wylin', hoe
The whole clique gon' follow hoe (b*t*h)
Be at your door like dominoes
And your main n***a love me (Haha)
Bruh been tryna f**k me
For the bread, walk him like a puppy (Walk him)
It ain't no love for you both side playin' hoes
Play with your kids or the radio, b*t*h
Another comma, millionaire status
A cool one, twenty on the Patek
Dope b*t*h, magic
I live a poor b*t*h dreams (Yeah)
Coco Chanel me, please
Y'all hoes too dangerous (Dangerous)
In my comments, talkin' crazy (Crazy)
But I can't make no b*t*h famous (Nah)
City Girls ain't changing
But sh*t, how could you blame me? (Blame me)
Bein' me made me famous
Titties sittin', no sports bra (Yeah)
f**k a n***a in a sports car (Skrrt)
Spike his drink at a sports bar
Y'all hoes make me sick
Always cuffin' tricks
Calling phones, talkin' slick
Lil' b*t*h, who taught you?
Mama should abort you
If you in my view, I would've pulled up and fought you
But I'm way up, you b*t*hes too low
New ass, new teeth, b*t*h, check out the glow (Period)
b*t*h, don't make put my wig in a rubber band (Band)
Slap a b*t*h down with the f**k sh*t (f**k sh*t)
Y'all hoes better turn up
Didn't think b*t*hes like us could do better
From Dade County, straight to Coachella
My heart cold, better bring two sweaters
And your best b*t*h, we'll take whoever
Gutter b*t*h, grace the cover of the billboards
Locked up, nominated, BET awards
City Girls, talk that sh*t they scream
Real ass b*t*h, I ain't flex for streams
I'm fresh out, n***as comin' in varieties
I'm fightin' loss, fightin' demons and anxiety
I really used to sleep on palettes
Now I'm sittin' in the condo like it's a palace
Main b*t*h locked up, had to hold it down (Down)
With a baby in my stomach at the Rolling Loud (Facts)
Uh, kept you b*t*hes out my game room (Period)
'Cause y'all the same fake hoes from The Shade Room (Shade room)
I came from runnin' outta stores to awards shows (Blessed)
Momma we made it, can't wait 'til you come
Shot up my Benz, 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 touchdown (Touchdown)
Did this sh*t for Dade County', yeah we up now
Man, don't make me put this wig in a rubber band again (Wig in a rubber band again)
Still the same, ain't changed, just changed where I live (Changed where I live)
