[Intro]
Fuck you talkin' 'bout?
I don't want no, don't want no city girls
Yeah
Yeah
[Verse]
I don't want no city girl, I want a bitch from the 'burbs
I brought ten at Neiman Marcus, I'm 'bout to go ahead and splurge
How the fuck you get a gun? Back in school you was a nerd
I don't do no drive-byes, I'ma walk up to yo' curb
I took a four to the face, yeah I'm sippin' while I swerve
I don't hang with broke niggas, they be getting on my nerves
Hit yo' block by myself, they gone think it was The Purge
You dick sucking niggas wave, boy that shit'll never work
Twenty-two on my arm, I might put it on my shirt
.22 in the clip but it really hold .30
I ain't never clocked in, gone be there at seven-thirty
You ain't made enough money to talk to me, you ain't worthy
If I tell 'em that I'm coming, they gon' close the store early (Ha)
Good bricks in the sky and I ain't talkin' 'bout no birdies
This a light forty thousand, tell me who the fuck hurting?
I get so much damn money, I can't let no bitch hurt me
Out the window with the chopper, I'll flip yo' car over
I just blew ten thousand, boy, you tryna work over
You ain't smoking real exotic, I'm telling you they got over
Every time you see me, I swear my bitch a little colder
My nigga good with his wrist, he gon' get all the hoes
I'm good with my wrist too, I'ma rerock 'til its over
If you tryna make some money, I got like ten different potions
I got so many bad bitches, got like thirty different oceans
Bought so much damn Givenchy, they done sent me some mo' shit
If you take a picture with me, better put it on a poster
Ghetto nigga with some manners, put my cup on a coaster
We was out here young as hell taking guns off a holster
You a little ass boy, you cannot compete with me
I'm tryna make a hundred K in five days, not weeks
Smoove what the fuck you on? Six-fifty for a tee
Smoove what the fuck you on? Five k for a feature
That little shit you bragging 'bout, boy, I do that in my sleep
We'll let off fifty shots not aimed at yo' feet
Mix the Wock'y with the red, man, I swear its so sweet
Spent five-hundred on a zip, what I'm smoking ain't cheap
Fuck you talkin' 'bout?
I don't want no, don't want no city girls
Yeah
Yeah
[Verse]
I don't want no city girl, I want a bitch from the 'burbs
I brought ten at Neiman Marcus, I'm 'bout to go ahead and splurge
How the fuck you get a gun? Back in school you was a nerd
I don't do no drive-byes, I'ma walk up to yo' curb
I took a four to the face, yeah I'm sippin' while I swerve
I don't hang with broke niggas, they be getting on my nerves
Hit yo' block by myself, they gone think it was The Purge
You dick sucking niggas wave, boy that shit'll never work
Twenty-two on my arm, I might put it on my shirt
.22 in the clip but it really hold .30
I ain't never clocked in, gone be there at seven-thirty
You ain't made enough money to talk to me, you ain't worthy
If I tell 'em that I'm coming, they gon' close the store early (Ha)
Good bricks in the sky and I ain't talkin' 'bout no birdies
This a light forty thousand, tell me who the fuck hurting?
I get so much damn money, I can't let no bitch hurt me
Out the window with the chopper, I'll flip yo' car over
I just blew ten thousand, boy, you tryna work over
You ain't smoking real exotic, I'm telling you they got over
Every time you see me, I swear my bitch a little colder
My nigga good with his wrist, he gon' get all the hoes
I'm good with my wrist too, I'ma rerock 'til its over
If you tryna make some money, I got like ten different potions
I got so many bad bitches, got like thirty different oceans
Bought so much damn Givenchy, they done sent me some mo' shit
If you take a picture with me, better put it on a poster
Ghetto nigga with some manners, put my cup on a coaster
We was out here young as hell taking guns off a holster
You a little ass boy, you cannot compete with me
I'm tryna make a hundred K in five days, not weeks
Smoove what the fuck you on? Six-fifty for a tee
Smoove what the fuck you on? Five k for a feature
That little shit you bragging 'bout, boy, I do that in my sleep
We'll let off fifty shots not aimed at yo' feet
Mix the Wock'y with the red, man, I swear its so sweet
Spent five-hundred on a zip, what I'm smoking ain't cheap
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