Enough/Better lyrics

Part 1: Enough

[Intro: JT, Yung Miami]
Y'all hoes done f*cked up
b*tch, don't make me come out, wig in a rubber band (Band)
Wait
Slap a b*tch down with the f*ck sh*t
I'm talkin' to you ho
Y'all hoes better turn up

[Verse 1: Yung Miami]
Enough is enough, b*tch
City Girls with the f*ck sh*t
Nah, don't blame it on you drunk b*tch (Nah)
See we can wylin', ho
The whole clique gon' follow ho (b*tch)
Be at your door like Domino's
And your main n*gga love me (Haha)
Bruh been tryna f*ck me
For the bread, walk him like a puppy (Walk him)
It ain't no love for you both side playin' hoes
Play with your kids or the radio, b*tch
Another comma, millionaire status
A cool one, twenty on the Patek
Dope b*tch, magic
I live a poor b*tch dreams (Yeah)
Coco Chanel me, please
[Verse 2: JT]
Y'all hoes too dangerous (Dangerous)
In my comments, talkin' crazy (Crazy)
But I can't make no b*tch famous (Nah)
City Girls ain't changing
But sh*t, how could you blame me? (Blame me)
Bein' me made me famous
Titties sittin', no sports bra (Yeah)
f*ck a n*gga in a sports car (Skrrt)
Spike his drink at a sports bar
Y'all hoes make me sick
Always cuffin' tricks
Calling phones, talkin' slick
Lil' b*tch, who taught you?
Mama should abort you
If you in my view, I would've pulled up and fought you
But I'm way up, you b*tches too low
New ass, new teeth, b*tch, check out the glow (Period)

[Outro: Yung Miami]
b*tch, don't make me put my wig in a rubber band (Band)
Slap a b*tch down with the f*ck sh*t (f*ck sh*t)
Y'all hoes better turn up

Part 2: Better
[Verse 1: JT]
Didn't think b*tches like us could do better
From Dade County, straight to Coachella
My heart cold, better bring two sweaters
And your best b*tch, we'll take whoever
Gutter b*tch, grace the cover of the billboards
Locked up, nominated, BET awards
City Girls, talk that sh*t they scream
Real ass b*tch, I ain't flex for streams
I'm fresh out, n*ggas comin' in varieties
I'm fightin' loss, fightin' demons and anxiety
I really used to sleep on palettes
Now I'm sittin' in the condo like it's a palace

[Verse 2: Yung Miami]
Main b*tch locked up, had to hold it down (Down)
With a baby in my stomach at the Rolling Loud (Facts)
Uh, kept you b*tches out my game room (Period)
'Cause y'all the same fake hoes from The Shade Room (Shade Room)
I came from runnin' outta stores to awards shows (Blessed)
Momma we made it, can't wait 'til you come home
Shot up my Benz, I was pregnant, I was seven months (Damn)
Me and baby Summer too blessed up (Blessed up)
Now everybody want a verse from us
All the trappers wanna go and cop a purse for us
Brought a bag to the hood when I touch down (Touch down)
Did this sh*t for Dade County, yeah, we up now
[Outro: JT]
Man, don't make me put this wig in a rubber band again (Wig in a rubber band again)
Still the same, ain't changed, just changed where I live (Changed where I live)