No Love Shemix lyrics

[Intro]
(Run It Up)

[Chorus: J.K. Mac & Flo Milli]
Callin' my sh*t like hold on (Hold on)
She tryna f*ck somethin', all on my trap phone
Slide if you want to, way that you talkin' (Ayy)
You finna leave with your back blown (Flo Milli sh*t)

[Verse 1: Flo Milli]
Yeah, he callin' my sh*t like (Huh?)
Let me pick it up, let me get right (Hello?)
I done went ghost, now he all alone (Hah, bye)
But he tryna see what that P like (Ooh)
I told that n*gga speed through them green lights (Go)
I can't stop until I hear a moan (Uh)
We get together, don't answer the phone (Put it down)
They be trippin' like, baby, we grown, baby, we grown
They sayin', "Your b*tch perfect" (Hello?)
You get to spinnin' thе block, they hurtin'
Bad-ass b*tch, you can tell by the waist (Hеy)
Don't hit from the back, I'm pretty in the face
Okay, I just been holdin' my weight
Ain't believin' a b*tch tryna eat off my plate
Okay, tryna cross me, I'ma give you a taste
He wanna save a ho, give him a cape
I know these hoes wanna be me (Duh)
Blue-face bands to the bank, I'ma kiki (Money)
sh*ttin' on hoes 'cause I can and it please me (Hello?)
Shakin' my ass, he ain't know I was freaky, ayy (Ooh)
White toes, Malasian on a bundle (Yeah)
He whipped it out, I saw an anaconda (Snake)
I just wake up and think about the hundreds (Yeah)
I can't go back and forth with a n*gga that fumbled (Yeah)
But it ain't no love in this b*tch (No love)
Hop out with J.K., my n*gga be poppin' his sh*t (Hello?)
I always knew I would be rich
I came from the bottom, now I'm at the top of they list
I tell a ho she can dip (Bye)
Fly-ass b*tch, can't copy this drip (I'm fly, b*tch)
He wanna go on a trip (Okay)
When I hop on it, I hope he can handle this c*nt
[Interlude: Flo Milli]
Callin' my sh*t like
Let me pick it up, let me get right
Yeah, yeah, callin' my sh*t like
Let me pick it up, let me get right

[Verse 2: Maiya The Don]
I f*cked some hoes no problem (No problem)
These all-black pumps got red at the bottom (Yeah)
Yeah, I'm from Brooklyn
But I'm good on all hoods from Fordham to Harlem (Brooklyn)
Ain't no competition, I'm lookin' a bum and you fit the description
Clutch on my wrist, watch how it glisten, it's Ave Maria Lux all on my inches (Baow)
Any b*tch step to me get stepped on (Stepped on)
Seven-figure talk just to f*ck with the Big Don (Yeah)
I pop sh*t, do my big one, take a ho salary, ice out my left arm (Ice, ice)
Tell a ho, "Google me," I been that girl, this attention ain't new to me
Shorty subtweetin' and won't say my name (pus*y)
Put an at on it, sis, I don't do ambiguity
b*tches is borin', respectfully
I say what I want and ain't nobody checkin' me
Why would you watch me from fake pages? (Huh?)
Admit it, lil' b*tch, you high-key obsessed with me
Rich b*tch status, you know my swag is
Iced-out diamonds, Balmain jackets
I'm the biggest, should put me in Guinness
I broke the record for sh*ttin' on b*tches (Big Don, yeah)
[Chorus: J.K. Mac & Trina]
Callin' my sh*t like hold on (Hold on)
She tryna f*ck somethin', all on my trap phone
Slide if you want to, way that you talkin'
You finna leave with your back blown (Trina)

[Verse 3: Trina]
Callin' my sh*t, I'm like, "Hold on" (Hold on)
I ain't in the States, I'm in Paris gettin' swiped on
Gettin' f*cked on
Makin' your n*gga wine and dine me 'til them racks gone
A bad-ass b*tch with a strobe light wrist
Since I hopped off the porch, I've been that b*tch
She say she hotter, she don't exist
Nan' b*tch standin' next to this, uh
I'm hotter than lava (Yeah)
Let's keep it real, b*tch, I been a problem
She doin' the dash, she back in her bag
And all that she after is commas (Commas)
She don't do the drama (Nah)
Stay in your lane, you don't want me to wake up my other persona
I don't do no rappin', gon' need you a donor, this b*tch in a coma
Smell the aroma (Yeah)
Can't breathe, b*tch, 'cause I'm f*ckin' ammonia
Then the pneumonia
Bring in the body bag, throw a sheet on her
Then do a quickie
Call up a n*gga and slip him a mickey
Give him a hickey while he up in me
And all of that money, I'm takin' it with me (Hahaha)
[Outro: Flo Milli]
Yeah, he callin' my sh*t like
It ain't no love in this b*tch
Yeah, yeah, callin' my sh*t like
It ain't no love in this b*tch
I done went ghost, now he all alone
But he tryna see what that P like
Tell a n*gga he can dip