(Do it) My sweet babe (Shine)
My sweet baby (Prove it)
My sweet baby (Say it)
Ooh, yeah
Uh-huh
P. Dot got that pack
Ooh-ooh
I don't wanna wait (Ayy)
Can't wait to smack you, nigga, been itchin' to do it
Hit stick, you gon' make my lil' niggas lose it
His bitch finally left him, I'm the reason they ruined
See me in her texts and I ain't even in Houston
We gon' air him in the morning since that nigga so foolish
His bitch scratched my whole back, that's why he skippin' my music
Huh, they keep hatin' like I wasn't their biggest influence
BeBe Kidd got successful, I'm not listenin' to 'em
Why you mad that bitch chose? She want a winner (Why you mad?)
Tired of arguin' 'bout hoes over dinner ('Bout hoes)
Flew her to the hills, fucked her, Bryson Tiller (All night)
Took her to a show, fucked her in a Sprinter (On the low)
I'm like Michael Jackson, hand full of glitter, nigga
He like Scooby-Doo, whole van full of snitches
Buyin' guns from the nerds, teachin' scams to the killers
Motherfuck what you heard, that boy handlin' business, huh
Bitch said it's over, I don't when we started, huh
Tried to play my heart, she ain't know I was heartless, huh
Quick to draw, he thought I was only an artist
I'm like Melvin, lettin' weed strands grow in the garden
Talkin' million dollar plays when I bump into Ghazi
All the opps mad as hell, they more pissed than Chauncey, huh
Hit him with that gazer like SoLLUMINATI (Baow, baow)
Two bitches, you know P in the middle like Taraji
Make me smack you with a hollow tip, you know my temper tiny
Boy, you keep comin' to lose short like you hoop in the nineties, ooh
I just dropped a bag on my bitch, money well spent
Free the real niggas, throwin' sixes in they jail pens (Ayy)
Countin' money in the Ghost, laughin' like I'm Tales Crypt
Broke ass boy gon' make me shoot up all these damn tints
Nigga, come outside
Can't wait to make you duck since you givin' run arounds, nigga
Why you mad that bitch chose? She want a winner (Why you mad?)
Tired of arguin' 'bout hoes over dinner ('Bout hoes)
Flew her to the hills, fucked her, Bryson Tiller (All night)
Took her to a show, fucked her in a Sprinter (On the low)
I'm like Michael Jackson, hand full of glitter, nigga
He like Scooby-Doo, whole van full of snitches
Buyin' guns from the nerds, teachin' scams to the killers
Motherfuck what you heard, that boy handlin' business
Trust me
Love me (Say it)
If you'll trust me (Do it)
Do you want me? (Show it)
If you need me (Prove it)
If you love me (Do it)
If you want me (Show it)
If you need me (Prove it)
If you love me (Say it)
If you trust me (Do it)
If you want me (Show it)
Trust me (Do it)
If you want me (Show it)
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
