[Intro: Linda Martell & Swizz Beatz]
Genres are a funny little concept, aren't they?
Yes, they are
That Beyoncé Virgo shit
In theory, they have a simple definition that's easy to understand
But in practice, well, some may feel confined
I swear 'fore God, it's 'bout to hit it
Jeeze, oh, ah
Woop
Right, right, ah, oh
[Verse 1: Beyoncé & Swizz Beatz]
I ain't in no gang, but I got shooters and I bang-bang (Goddamn)
At the snap of my fingers, I'm Thanos, da-na, da-na
And I'm still on your head, cornrows, da-na, da-na
They call me the captain, the catwalk assassin (Come on)
When they know it's slappin', then here come the yappin'
All of this snitchin', and all of this bitchin'
Just a fishin' expedition, dumb admission
In the kitchen, cookin' up them chickens
Extra leg, but I ain't even tryna kick it
Cunty, country, petty, petty, petty
All the same to me, Plain Jane, spaghetti
No sauce, no sauce (No), too soft, too soft (Uh)
They salty, they shootin', like Curry (One, two, three)
One hand on my holster, then pass it to Hova
Thought it was sweet when they was walkin'
In the backdoor of the kitchen past the dirty dishes
Now we on a mission, tried to turn me to the opposition
I'm appalled 'bout the proposition
Y'all been played by the plagiaristic, ain't gon' give no clout addiction my attention
I ain't no regular singer, now come get everythin' you came for
Genres are a funny little concept, aren't they?
Yes, they are
That Beyoncé Virgo shit
In theory, they have a simple definition that's easy to understand
But in practice, well, some may feel confined
I swear 'fore God, it's 'bout to hit it
Jeeze, oh, ah
Woop
Right, right, ah, oh
[Verse 1: Beyoncé & Swizz Beatz]
I ain't in no gang, but I got shooters and I bang-bang (Goddamn)
At the snap of my fingers, I'm Thanos, da-na, da-na
And I'm still on your head, cornrows, da-na, da-na
They call me the captain, the catwalk assassin (Come on)
When they know it's slappin', then here come the yappin'
All of this snitchin', and all of this bitchin'
Just a fishin' expedition, dumb admission
In the kitchen, cookin' up them chickens
Extra leg, but I ain't even tryna kick it
Cunty, country, petty, petty, petty
All the same to me, Plain Jane, spaghetti
No sauce, no sauce (No), too soft, too soft (Uh)
They salty, they shootin', like Curry (One, two, three)
One hand on my holster, then pass it to Hova
Thought it was sweet when they was walkin'
In the backdoor of the kitchen past the dirty dishes
Now we on a mission, tried to turn me to the opposition
I'm appalled 'bout the proposition
Y'all been played by the plagiaristic, ain't gon' give no clout addiction my attention
I ain't no regular singer, now come get everythin' you came for
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