F.T.N.
Cold ass bitch
Call me Elsa
Imma let him go
Had to let 'em know
With any bitch I'll go toe to toe
Niggas ain't shit Bitch
All these niggas hoe to hoe
Money ain't shit
The Realest Brat always show to show
If he a dog
I'm a dog too
A Bitch gon' be a bitch
And that's the reason I don't call dude
He say I'm trippin'
But that's all you
Supposed to ball if I call
You don't stall
You just fall through
Pussy nigga get a gun
And think he runnin' shit
I can call my niggas up for fun
And know they comin' quick
Always talk my shit
Will cut a lame off quick
I ain't trippin' over dick
Cant play me like no bitch
The fuck
Once it's up it's stuck
You gon leave me cause I fucked off one time?
Nigga yup
Stressin' 'bout a nigga
That's too much
I'm all about the money
Nigga run it, run it up
It's my season
Got a reason for they mad ass
And I'll set this Bitch off
Boosie Badazz
Hit the nigga like a blunt
Then imma pass that
Real Florida bitch
Let him go you can have that
You actin' funny
Give you bitches somethin' to laugh at
Fifty feet 'fore I make you bitches back back
R.I.P a bitch
Turn it to a hashtag
Bitches screamin' smoke
Til' I pull up with the gas Mask
Fuck that nigga
Don't trust no nigga
Bitch I'm married to the money
Don't cuff no nigga
Fuck that nigga
Don't trust no nigga
Bitch I'm married to the money
Don't cuff no nigga
Fuck that nigga
Fuck that nigga
Fuck that nigga
Fuck that nigga bitch
Fuck that nigga
Can't trust a nigga
I could never make him my dude
Ain't got no patience
Pass him quicker than a drive-thru
Ain't with yo' games boy
This ain't high school
Put yo' pride to the side
Behind you
Fuck you
And I don't want no scrub
All about the Benjamins
Don't want no love
How they sleepin' on me
But they woke me up
You ain't, you ain't dissin' on me
But you spoke me up
I ain't dissin'
I don't even see the slick shots
Bitch I'm pissin'
Time is tickin' check my wristwatch
Quick to slap a hoe
Flip her out her flip flops
I be all in Gucci
While you bitches be at gift shops
This ain't no drill
You know every bitch get got
Kept it real
From the bottom to the tip top
You say you rappin'
But you cappin'
This ain't hip hop
Mixtape season
Gettin' ready for the big drop
Call me Elsa
Imma let him go
Had to let 'em know
With any bitch I'll go toe to toe
Niggas ain't shit Bitch
All these niggas hoe to hoe
Money ain't shit
The Realest Brat always show to show
If he a dog
I'm a dog too
A Bitch gon' be a bitch
And that's the reason I don't call dude
He say I'm trippin'
But that's all you
Supposed to ball if I call
You don't stall
You just fall through
Pussy nigga get a gun
And think he runnin' shit
I can call my niggas up for fun
And know they comin' quick
Always talk my shit
Will cut a lame off quick
I ain't trippin' over dick
Cant play me like no bitch
The fuck
Once it's up it's stuck
You gon leave me cause I fucked off one time?
Nigga yup
Stressin' 'bout a nigga
That's too much
I'm all about the money
Nigga run it, run it up
It's my season
Got a reason for they mad ass
And I'll set this Bitch off
Boosie Badazz
Hit the nigga like a blunt
Then imma pass that
Real Florida bitch
Let him go you can have that
You actin' funny
Give you bitches somethin' to laugh at
Fifty feet 'fore I make you bitches back back
R.I.P a bitch
Turn it to a hashtag
Bitches screamin' smoke
Til' I pull up with the gas Mask
Fuck that nigga
Don't trust no nigga
Bitch I'm married to the money
Don't cuff no nigga
Fuck that nigga
Don't trust no nigga
Bitch I'm married to the money
Don't cuff no nigga
Fuck that nigga
Fuck that nigga
Fuck that nigga
Fuck that nigga bitch
Fuck that nigga
Can't trust a nigga
I could never make him my dude
Ain't got no patience
Pass him quicker than a drive-thru
Ain't with yo' games boy
This ain't high school
Put yo' pride to the side
Behind you
Fuck you
And I don't want no scrub
All about the Benjamins
Don't want no love
How they sleepin' on me
But they woke me up
You ain't, you ain't dissin' on me
But you spoke me up
I ain't dissin'
I don't even see the slick shots
Bitch I'm pissin'
Time is tickin' check my wristwatch
Quick to slap a hoe
Flip her out her flip flops
I be all in Gucci
While you bitches be at gift shops
This ain't no drill
You know every bitch get got
Kept it real
From the bottom to the tip top
You say you rappin'
But you cappin'
This ain't hip hop
Mixtape season
Gettin' ready for the big drop
Credits
Writer(s): Sydny Johnson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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