Don’t Talk To Me lyrics

[Chorus]
Run it by my agent, run it by my b*tch
Run it by my boyfriend, run it by my clique
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Run it by my driver, run it by my stylist
Run it by my makeup artist, run it by my pilot
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me

[Verse 1]
Now I hate making chat with a bland b*tch
I never asked a single question 'bout your brand, b*tch
You need a favor then you reach out to my man, b*tch
You know your place, you know you're nothing but a fan, b*tch
I hit L.A. and all the faggots goin' crazy
I'm racking lines inside a pus*y, pink Mercedes, baby
Hold up, hold my drink, I'ma let y'all know what the f*ck I think
I'ma let y'all know who the f*ck I am
Petey Plastic, who the f*ck you stan?

[Pre-Chorus]
I'ma let y'all little b*tches wake up
You talk 'bout me, you can get your face cut
Fake f*ck, cryin' like I wouldn't be back
I just tell 'em that I thought the albums wouldn't be wack (Who's that?)
[Chorus]
Run it by my agent, run it by my b*tch
Run it by my boyfriend, run it by my clique
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Run it by my driver, run it by my stylist
Run it by my makeup artist, run it by my pilot
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me

[Verse 2]
Who the f*ck said you can talk to me? (Who?)
Why all these hoes in my property? (Why?)
Can't even greet a b*tch properly (Nope)
Standing there staring so awkwardly (Hah)
Can I help you? No, really, can I help you?
Get a therapist, b*tch I ain't Bellevue
Don't even look at me when I walk by (Nope)
How many times I gotta tell you?
I know it's hard to see me on my [?]
[?] fans and they never goin' sober
Poppin' whatever I like, whatever I want
Still droppin' the jaws whenever I flaunt
Yeah, all my sh*t is expensive
And no, ma'am, you can't touch it
I ride around in my daddy's car
I drop the top and said, "f*ck it"
[Pre-Chorus]
I warned you I would come right back
I can smoke your whole entire catalog like crack
Lips lined up like a chola
Te-te-tell them hatin' b*tches that I said "Hola"

[Chorus]
Run it by my agent, run it by my b*tch
Run it by my boyfriend, run it by my clique
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Run it by my driver, run it by my stylist
Run it by my makeup artist, run it by my pilot
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me