b*tches Ain’t sh*t - E.P. Version lyrics

b*tches ain't sh*t
b*tches ain't sh*t

b*tches ain't sh*t but hoes and tricks
Lick on these nuts and suck the di*k
Just get the f*ck out after you're done
And I hops in my ride to make a quick run
I used to know a b*tch named Eric Wright
We used to roll around and f*ck the hoes at night
Tighter than a motherf*cking gangsta beats
And we was ballin' on the motherf*cking Compton streets

Peep that sh*t, got deep and it was on
Number one song after number one song
Long as my motherf*cking pockets was fat
I didn't give a f*ck where the b*tch was at
But she was hanging with a white b*tch doing the sh*t she do
Suckin' on his di*k just to get a buck or two
And the ends that she got meant nothing
And now she's suing 'cause the sh*t she be doing ain't sh*t

(b*tches can't hang with the streets)
She found herself short
(Now she's takin' me to court)
That's real conversation for your ass
I once had a b*tch named Mandy May
I used to be up in them guts, like, every day
The pus*y was the bomb, had a n*gga on sprung
I was in love like a motherf*cker lickin' the proton
The homies used to tell me that she was no good
But I'm the maniac in black, Mr. Snoop Eastwood
So I figure n*gga wouldn't trip with mine
Guess what, got gaffled by one time

I'm back in the motherf*cking county jail
Six months on my chest, now it's time to bail
I gets released on a hot, sunny day
My n*gga D.O.C. and my homey Dr. Dre
Scooped in a coupe, Snoop, we got the news
Your girl was trickin' while you was draped in the county blues
Ain't been out a second, and already I got to do
Some motherf*cking chin checkin'

Move up the block as we groove down the block
See my girl's house, Dre, pass the Glock
Kick in the door, and I look on the floor
It's my little cousin Daz, and he's f*ckin' my ho
I unc*cked my sh*t
I'm heartbroke, but I'm still locked
Spoken: Man, f*ck that b*tch
3, 4
b*tches ain't sh*t but hoes and tricks
Lick on these nuts and suck the di*k
Gets the f*ck out after you're done
And I hops in my ride to make a quick run
I used to know a b*tch named Eric Wright
We used to roll around and f*ck the hoes at night
Tighter than a motherf*cking gangsta beats
And we was ballin' on the motherf*cking Compton streets

Peep that sh*t, got deep and it was on
Number one song after number one song
Long as my motherf*cking pockets was fat
I didn't give a f*ck where the b*tch was at
But she was hanging with a white b*tch doing the sh*t she do
Suckin' on his di*k just to get a buck or two
And the ends that she got meant nothing
And now she's suing 'cause the sh*t she be doing ain't sh*t

(b*tches can't hang with the streets)
She found herself short
(Now she's takin' me to court)
That's some real conversation for your ass

(b*tches can't hang with the streets
b*tches can't hang with the streets
b*tches can't hang with the streets
b*tches can't hang with the streets
b*tches can't hang with the streets
b*tches can't hang with the streets
b*tches can't hang with the streets
b*tches can't hang with the streets)