Bestfriend lyrics

The f*ck?
Hold on
b*tches got beef but don’t want to fight me
Quit all that barkin’, ho bite me
b*tch
Hold on
b*tch you fat need a tummy tuck (Yep)
You dropping diss songs, man, b*tch get your money up (For sure, then)
If you ‘bout it, then run it up
Used to be cool with this b*tch, but she mad that I’m coming up
You a thot, you ‘gon suck it up
I got a white b*tch in the club, wanna pump it up (Woo, woo)
f*ck a speech, I’ma sum it up
$hy on the track and you already know she gonna f*ck it up (Aye, yeah)
b*tch you need to worry ‘bout a bag
I’m rocking these shows, and that’s why she mad (Aha)
After this diss, you goin’ out sad
b*tch, you bougie, you don’t got no class (b*tch)
Turnt in the booth and I’m piped off that gas
Spin on yo’ block, then we hitting the dash (Shoot, shoot)
It’s still love for you though
But, b*tch, I’m ‘bout to get on your ass (Haha)
$hy got a potty mouth
You wanna talk sh*t?
b*tch, let’s talk ‘bout your body count
Tryna hang wit’ the kid, I’m the life of the party now (Yeah)
Your lil’ sister look up to me
b*tch, you can’t rap and you really not touching mе (No)
Just like a virgin, lil’ b*tch, cannot f*ck wit’ me
And I nevеr been pus*y, b*tch, you know what’s up with me (For sure, then)
Why this b*tch wanna pop sh*t?
We was just cool, now this b*tch wanna act like an opp b*tch (The f*ck?)
Oh, she mad she can’t stop sh*t
Said that my breath stink ‘cause I’m spittin’ that hot sh*t (Hot, hot)
Quit all that barkin’ lil’ b*tch, and come bite me
b*tches got beef, but they don’t wanna fight me (Wait, wait)
Turnt to my music, but swear they don’t like me
You got my number, ho, Facetime, Skype me
These hoes wanna be me
I’m on your radio, soon I’ma be on your TV
John Cena, b*tches can’t see me (Nope)
I’m goin’ up, and it’s hella fans want to meet me (Hey, haha)
b*tches don’t get me
b*tch, why you hatin’? You could’ve been goin’ up with me (For sure, then)
Spear on a b*tch like she Brittney
You could’ve dissed any b*tch, but instead you ‘gon pick me (Okay, the f*ck?)
Make a b*tch want to hit me (Aye, aye)
b*tches be cap on my name, the shoe did not fit me (No, it didn’t)
Show these b*tches no pity (Yeah)
These b*tches wanna be friends, admit it, you miss me (Go)
Wrap up like a doobie
I don’t give a f*ck ‘bout opinions, you know I’ma do me (Hey, hold on)
b*tch, you a gnat, you a groupie
Told that lil’ b*tch it’s some snacks, and we pulled up with Scoobies