The Chill$ Azealia Banks

[Verse 1]
I'mma pay check checka, homewrecka
Somethin' like an open panel leather in cold weather with no sweater
No cheddar is no pleasure
He won't even get to eat the box if it gets wetter
See an opportunity to hop if the chips better
But I ain't a fat bitch, I'mma go getta
Let a chick come to war, I'mma go get her
And feed her ass to my bitches like old dinner
Right off the bat I got ya nigga pullin' shit outta hat
Cuz I can look em in the face while I'm arching my back
Check his microphone
Suck the gristle off his bone
Like tryna quench your thirst to get your hands on his phone
That I don't condone
He's fucked up he ain't right
And a bitch is prone to lay back and take pipe
Fuck the drama I'm too pretty for a fist fight
Keep my money comin' and I keep all of my lips tight

[Hook: Peter Bjorn and John]
Your tonque is sharp
But I miss the taste of it
(They be puttin' up the digits
If he if he wanna hit it
If he if he wanna hit it
If he if he wanna hit it)
You say time heals
There's not enough of it
(be puttin' up the digits
If he if he wanna hit it
If he if he wanna hit it
If he if he wanna hit it)