f*ck ’Em lyrics

Verse 1:
Leave n*gga layin' stiffer than my di*k when it's up in a tight clit
Return the Devils hate by f*ckin' a white b*tch
b*tches ain't sh*t but some hips
Tits, clits, and some fat lips to wrap around my di*k
Check it, ghetto girl in designer type
She could get it 'long as the vagina tight
Keep they nose numb, high off of china white
Kinda like the quartz, I knock 'em down, runnin' through my system
pus*y ain't right hit 'em with a aww naaaw
If the head right get remanded behind bars bizarre
Grand jury endightment, lifetime sentence, stash my coke in they bra
The hustl-ar, ya'll custom-ar's
Posted up on Broadway in a custom R
25 Mil' in the trunk
Nicky Barnes style on my way to the trunk
b*tch lets bump

Chorus (Shyne and Female)
No, (f*ck these b*tches, f*ck these b*tches, f*ck 'em)
I don't love these b*tches, f*ck these hoes
No, (f*ck these n*ggas, f*ck these n*ggas, f*ck 'em)
I don't love these n*ggas, f*ck these n*ggas
('till the day that I die never get none of mine)
No, (f*ck these b*tches, f*ck these b*tches
f*ck these b*tches, f*ck 'em)
I don't love these n*ggas, f*ck these scrubs
No, f*ck these n*ggas (Four Karat thug n*ggas want some love)

Verse 2:
I'm that n*gga Priest from Supafly after he died
Reincarnated, keep a b*tch wide
On the bed tied
Like "Uh! Uh! Uh!", stop I'm tired
Besides my Moms a b*tch' lips never touch my face
Maybe my girl, but I be watchin' her funny
Like "Who di*k you suckin' while I'm on tour gettin' money
Tryin' to wash this crack money?"
I give a b*tch nothin' but sperm
When you n*ggas gon' learn?
Discern queens from sl*ts, love from lust
The ones who ate pus*y and take it in the butt
20 stacks in my pockets, I'm cheap
f*ckin' treatin' a freak to eat
I got KY Jelly and grease
And a stick of bubble gum b*tch, you want a piece?
C'mon....
Chorus

Verse 3:
Never met a b*tch I liked enough to love
And I share with my mothaf*ckin' n*gga Buzz
Let the Homies get up on it
Treat a b*tch like a blunt, hit, hit, pass
Head on my di*k 'till she get whiplash
f*ck it I'm cold, some b*tches is colder
Runnin' game just to get up in the Rover
Platinum R, Platinum Jehovah
Not here b*tch, f*ck what they told ya'
Keys to the condo, Gucci ensamble
Gulf streams in Santa Fe` doin' the Mambo
Laid back where the shade's at
White sand, tan, how many b*tches can say that?
You want that? we can do that...yeah right
Not in your life
Stay focused, get my money, every penny
f*ck if your legs broke b*tch, crawl on ya' belly

Chorus 'till fade...