Nippy
My bitch sticky
Got no flaws picky
Got my trap up, bread still backed up
Pray that God's with me
Money fit me
I ain't no child pickney
She ain't no rat
But when I go raw, that box gon' sing, Whitney
These niggas fishy
Cry bout a bitch simpy
Man I'm so fucked up, I don't really feel shit
Heart got cold nippy
My life risky
Took my style litty
Old shit wack anyway, got a new wave
So it ain't no biggy
New shit polished, nuisance, obvi
In and I'm out like Robby
Good with my time don't clock me
I be with ahki's, dread heads, natty's
Trini up to my aunties
Ran my steps like rocky
They might watch me
When I fall off they'll mock me
When I'm back on they top me
When I fall back they cocky
Niggas shock me, niggas look real fugazi
Niggas like marc got real Hollywood
I don't know if its true but probably
They don't, know me, you real?
Show me, put in that work like OT
24 8 like Kobe, bitches nosey
When you first hit they trophies
When you go broke they lonely
When you break bread they cozy
My bitch sticky
Got no flaws picky
Got my trap up, bread still backed up
Pray that God's with me
Money fit me
I ain't no child pickney
She ain't no rat
But when I go raw, that box gon' sing, Whitney
These niggas fishy
Cry bout a bitch simpy
Man I'm so fucked up, I don't really feel shit
Heart got cold nippy
My life risky
Took my style litty
Old shit wack anyway, got a new wave
So it ain't no biggy
I gotta double money
I can't be the nigga that was eatin'
Fell cause he was dumb with paper
I got shit where I could write a book
About these bitches and these niggas claimin' haters
We the last four five niggas that's ten toes
And that's now and later
Got a wrist watch with the calculator
Got the chicken movin' up like elevators
We been with it if we got a problem
Don't fake though
And I just wanna make my momma prouder
Know she lookin at a new Range Rover
Peakin' out the room
Lookin at my mother hurtin'
Cause she need a takeover
And now I'm lookin at a hangover
Since then I ain't never been sober
I gotta move a mile a minute baby
Gotta get it how I live it baby
I don't mind if you gon' ride with me
But I got dollars that I gotta get into baby
A lotta problems that I'm given baby
Is from me and tryna see no limit baby
I know that I shouldn't lie to you
Now I got therapy I gotta give to you baby
Got bodies that I never mismatch
Cause I don't know if I could risk that
And if a nigga fall down
Then I know that I'm surely gonna make a get back
Make or break a nigga like a KitKat
Niggas sleepin' make 'em take a lit nap
I been goin through it so long
I ain't even moved from a nigga chit chat
Like yea
My bitch sticky
Got no flaws picky
Got my trap up, bread still backed up
Pray that God's with me
Money fit me
I ain't no child pickney
She ain't no rat
But when I go raw, that box gon' sing, Whitney
These niggas fishy
Cry bout a bitch simpy
Man I'm so fucked up, I don't really feel shit
Heart got cold nippy
My life risky
Took my style litty
Old shit wack anyway, got a new wave
So it ain't no biggy
Got no flaws picky
Got my trap up, bread still backed up
Pray that God's with me
Money fit me
I ain't no child pickney
She ain't no rat
But when I go raw, that box gon' sing, Whitney
These niggas fishy
Cry bout a bitch simpy
Man I'm so fucked up, I don't really feel shit
Heart got cold nippy
My life risky
Took my style litty
Old shit wack anyway, got a new wave
So it ain't no biggy
New shit polished, nuisance, obvi
In and I'm out like Robby
Good with my time don't clock me
I be with ahki's, dread heads, natty's
Trini up to my aunties
Ran my steps like rocky
They might watch me
When I fall off they'll mock me
When I'm back on they top me
When I fall back they cocky
Niggas shock me, niggas look real fugazi
Niggas like marc got real Hollywood
I don't know if its true but probably
They don't, know me, you real?
Show me, put in that work like OT
24 8 like Kobe, bitches nosey
When you first hit they trophies
When you go broke they lonely
When you break bread they cozy
My bitch sticky
Got no flaws picky
Got my trap up, bread still backed up
Pray that God's with me
Money fit me
I ain't no child pickney
She ain't no rat
But when I go raw, that box gon' sing, Whitney
These niggas fishy
Cry bout a bitch simpy
Man I'm so fucked up, I don't really feel shit
Heart got cold nippy
My life risky
Took my style litty
Old shit wack anyway, got a new wave
So it ain't no biggy
I gotta double money
I can't be the nigga that was eatin'
Fell cause he was dumb with paper
I got shit where I could write a book
About these bitches and these niggas claimin' haters
We the last four five niggas that's ten toes
And that's now and later
Got a wrist watch with the calculator
Got the chicken movin' up like elevators
We been with it if we got a problem
Don't fake though
And I just wanna make my momma prouder
Know she lookin at a new Range Rover
Peakin' out the room
Lookin at my mother hurtin'
Cause she need a takeover
And now I'm lookin at a hangover
Since then I ain't never been sober
I gotta move a mile a minute baby
Gotta get it how I live it baby
I don't mind if you gon' ride with me
But I got dollars that I gotta get into baby
A lotta problems that I'm given baby
Is from me and tryna see no limit baby
I know that I shouldn't lie to you
Now I got therapy I gotta give to you baby
Got bodies that I never mismatch
Cause I don't know if I could risk that
And if a nigga fall down
Then I know that I'm surely gonna make a get back
Make or break a nigga like a KitKat
Niggas sleepin' make 'em take a lit nap
I been goin through it so long
I ain't even moved from a nigga chit chat
Like yea
My bitch sticky
Got no flaws picky
Got my trap up, bread still backed up
Pray that God's with me
Money fit me
I ain't no child pickney
She ain't no rat
But when I go raw, that box gon' sing, Whitney
These niggas fishy
Cry bout a bitch simpy
Man I'm so fucked up, I don't really feel shit
Heart got cold nippy
My life risky
Took my style litty
Old shit wack anyway, got a new wave
So it ain't no biggy
Credits
Writer(s): Marcus Goodman
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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