FANTA lyrics

[Intro]
Ayy, uh, okay, ayy
Okay, ayy, yuh
Wait, wait, wait
Yuh, umm, ayy

[Hook]
Okay like ooh, bad b*tch, I'm a hype man
'Cause I like b*tches on my di*k and I like price tags
I couldn't care 'bout a lame unless they 'bout my bag
And I ain't hitting the phonebook, b*tch I won't write back (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
Bad b*tch, I'm a hype man
Cause I like b*tches on my di*k and I like price tags
I couldn't care 'bout a lame unless they 'bout my bag
And I ain't hitting the phonebook, b*tch I won't write back (Ayy, ayy, ayy)

[Verse 1]
Aye, I don't need that b*tch
Listen, you ain't got the sauce, and b*tch I bleed that sh*t
Okay, wait, like y'all don't see my wrist
And you ain't have to go and find, like you ain't peepin' this
Okay, she act like she ain't been up on the anaconda
And b*tch I ain't with all of that, I want a lot of prada
I bet she think she on my mind, but I ain't talk about her
Like I'm a bad ass b*tch and I don't care 'bout nada
Ooh, ooh, who, who, who wanna talk to the man?
Okay she ain't bout sh*t if this ain't makin' her dance
And they 'gon think I'm stealin', how I pocket the bands
And b*tch I been up high, and I ain't never 'gon land