Letra No bars City Girls

No bars

(I got Brizzy on the beat, he go crazy)
(What up Noc)
What you working with? (Yeah)
What you working with? (Uhh)
What you working with? (Uhh)
Show a real bitch what you working with

Pay for this pussy nigga (Yeah)
Get yo' bands up
Oh, you ain't tricking, nigga, I'ma hit yo' mans up
Cold ass cocky bitch, fire in the summertime
He gon' keep the bills paid 'cause he know a bitch fine
Bitches always in my business, JT, what you really do?
What?
I be at home playing fetch by a swimming pool
I'm a real big dog, bitch, you a Scrappy Doo
Doing all that wifey shit, knowing he don't fuck with you
Poster girl pussy in yo' nigga dreams
I'ma hold a semi, buss whoever in between (Pow)
Gangster bitch JT, Medellin
Haven't heard from the opps, yeah, they ain't said a thing (Thing)
I'll be damned, nigga, you know who I am, nigga
Long way from cracking cards and pulling scams, nigga
Yeah
Bitches on my dick, pretty like a transgender
Oww
Sit this pussy on his chin in a chinchilla
Fifty floors up
Can't hop out my coupe unless I lift the doors up (Aye)
Told my nigga twin turbo, V8 the motor (Skrt)
Self-esteems drop every time I show up, yeah

Wrist doing 80 in a 35 (Ice)
Shut Marni down for some furry slides
Look him in his eyes and tell him dirty lies (Hmm)
Cop me Chanel, nigga, thirty times
The price on this Kelly say I'm hella paid (Yeah)
Crocodile Birkin from the Everglades (Yeah)
And, I ain't gotta do a motherfucking thang
I ain't gotta do a motherfucking thang, bitch

Period
Told y'all hoes I don't work jobs
I am a motherfucking job
Bitches always in my motherfucking business
Worrying 'bout what the fuck I got going on, ho
It's City Girl shit (Ho)
Even when you think it ain't Cty Girl shit
I'm a City Girl, bitch

Second verse to you hating ass hoes
Tired ass
Who get mad every time I strike a pose
Damn
I'm Rick down from my head to my toes
Yep
Hood bitch, dress like a weirdo (Ha)
Run away, now I'm stepping in some runway
Bitch, you can't fuck with me on your birthday (No)
Free my real bitches, Corrlink and J-Pay
Free my bitches
You gon' be home, fuck what the judge say
I'm lowkey, bitches fuck with my anxiety
I'm prayed up and I'm waiting on my rivalry
I'm the hype, naw, y'all ain't gotta hype me
I'm that bitch, give a fuck who don't like me

It's grind time, no flossing (Let's get it)
Pulled out the truck and put the Porshe in
These bitches tired, they exhausted (Tired ass hoes)
Got bitches in panic for this dark skin
Bitch, I'm really from the trenches
Where it's shots, I ain't talking 'bout syringes
Yeah, I'm really from them trenches
Pretty ass lips make these bitches cop syringes, mwah
No bars