Watch The Drip
Lyrics
30 hanging out the ride side
All my choppas ducking, they don't like guys
Getting to the chicken like I'm Popeyes
Gotta hit the kitchen make the block hot
Went jewelry shopping in Paris (oh)
All of my bitches rock karats (oh)
These niggas love my appearance (oh)
I be brushing up on my new metrics (ayy)
I ain't been getting no sleep, I was on the run from the police
You was on the run in the nose bleeds
You a rat, but you ain't getting no cheese
I'm cute but I be with the OG's
You ain't getting the pussy, nigga proceed
I know all the bitches that you go see
Nigga run your money up and smoke weed
Drippin' on these hoes, I'm dr-drippin' on these hoes
I just pulled another four, I'm t-tippin' on fo-fours
Your bitch round here with that booger sugar dripping from her nose
I make messes where I step, sauce dripping from my toes (uh)
Tell the bitch hit me up if you need me
She sent a DM, I ain't read it
Ya I'm cool, but I'm kinda conceited
Caught a wave and they trying to repeat it
I came in the came with a check on me
I'm the one, lil' bitch, you can bet on it
When my name come up, put some respect on it
Bad wrist, bout to drop a Patek on it (oh)
Can't name another bitch as cold as me
Your bitch high 'cause I roll the weed
Shit, I drive, came from over seas
My new whip is just for me, ain't got no other seats
Twenty eight inches, I'm Pocahontas
Twenty eight grams, I'm smokahontas
Before I could how to read, I knew how to count it
I got up out the rolls (?) up out it
I think I'm the shit and I must be
'Cause I ain't met a bitch that could touch me
I hope bitches good at math, I got problems for these hoes
I be making bitches mad, I got drama for these hoes
Boy, these hoes ain't got no cash, I got commas on these hoes
I got fuck off with your daddy, bitch I'm mamma to these hoes
You just tryna get some pussy, nigga sit down and be humble
Ain't not fucking me for free, what tax bracket is you under?
I want blunts, I want hundreds, I want some bundles and a frontal
I could get that shit myself, but I would rather spend his money
I'm a racked up boss bitch, act tough you off, bitch
You can't go to war with me, you broke, and that shit costs, bitch
I'm a racked up boss bitch, act tough you off, bitch
You can't go to war with me, you broke, and that shit costs, bitch
I hope bitches good at math, I got problems for these hoes
I be making bitches mad, I got drama for these hoes
Boy, these hoes ain't got no cash, I got commas on these hoes
I got fuck off with your daddy, bitch, I'm mamma to these hoes
Tell these bitches get they're bread up or get they're head bust
I be piling up them blue hunnids in the red duffle
All you bitches like to talk, but you bitches scared of us
He can't diss me if he licked me, keep it real I fed, niggas
If he try to disrespect me, it's gon' be some dead, niggas
Ain't no need to be repeated, you heard what I said, nigga
Ya nigga, they seen her, riding round with that Nina
Send your nigga to rehab, this pussy good and he feening
Trina
Writer(s): Susie Sheard
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Sentric Music
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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