[Hook: Young Dro]
My True game and my shoe game
You can’t touch that sh*t
A b*tch that holler ‘bout “f*ck me?”
Nah, f*ck that b*tch
f*ck that b*tch, f*ck that b*tch
A b*tch that holler ‘bout “f*ck me?”
Nah, f*ck that b*tch
f*ck that b*tch, f*ck that b*tch
A b*tch that holler ‘bout “f*ck me?”
Nah, f*ck that b*tch
[Verse 1: Young Dro]
Three – what you wanna do here?
b*tch, I’mma float like root beer
Still workin’ on gettin’ the Coupe cleared
You ain’t got none of my shoe gear
Red on the bottom, right, they’re red
Shawty, she a model, her hair red
b*tch you ugly and b*tch you ugly
And both y’all hoes look scary
I don’t wanna get married
Chick, you a bird – Parrot
I’m eatin’ so good these hoes like
“Boy you’re gettin’ fat, eat salad”
I’m ridin’ round and I’m gettin’ it in and I’m bunkin’
Got your main b*tch on my di*k sh*t she ain’t nothin’
Her hips phat I seen her walk past I was like sh*t
She seen my Audemar she tried to touch that, I said “b*tch?”
I bang hoes ridin’ in the top drop Range Rove
I train hoes I’m a pimp – Trinidad James clothes
[Bridge: Young Dro]
West Side, Bankhead, is where I’m from
Everything y’all did has been done
My True game and my shoe game
You can’t touch that sh*t
[Hook:]
A b*tch that holler ‘bout “f*ck me?”
Nah, f*ck that b*tch
f*ck that b*tch, f*ck that b*tch
A b*tch that holler ‘bout “f*ck me?”
Nah, f*ck that b*tch
f*ck that b*tch, f*ck that b*tch
A b*tch that holler ‘bout “f*ck me?”
Nah, f*ck that b*tch
[Verse 2: Gambino]
Eastside, Zone 6… where I’m from
Got a couple hundreds, I’mma throw a lot of ones
f*ck her with a rubber, I ain’t tryna have sons
n*gga mean-mugging, they don’t really want none
f*ck it, I’m turned up – too loud
Ratchet b*tches won’t do me
I’m like “What the Hell? I’m on duty now”
I’m rich, used to be poor
I dont really trust ‘em if I met ‘em on tour
Bought a new house, livin’ on the top floor
Elevator go “bing” when you at the front door
I ain’t never do chores, I ain’t takin out trash
I ain’t made no beds, got a maid with an ass
But ‘em on blast, I don’t give a f*ck
Got a bad b*tch like she peed on the rug
I used to live off of picanha, in ’88 like piano…
I’ll put your girl on camera
I see the future, Ciara
Molly all in her champagne… she knew it
Big Sean, that baby moms… I do it
f*ck that b*tch with a broken di*k… I love my new girl
She don’t talk sh*t, she don’t act extra
She just give brain and the brain so MENSA
Put her in the game, but a n*gga might bench her
I don’t pay attention, I don’t even text her
She wanna talk sh*t, but then have a friendship
f*ck you, b*tch, and I hope you offended…
Biotch!
[Hook:]
A b*tch that holler ‘bout “f*ck me?”
Nah, f*ck that b*tch
f*ck that b*tch, f*ck that b*tch
A b*tch that holler ‘bout “f*ck me?”
Nah, f*ck that b*tch
f*ck that b*tch, f*ck that b*tch
A b*tch that holler ‘bout “f*ck me?”
Nah, f*ck that b*tch