Upcoming Concerts for bbymutha
Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Brittnee Moore
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Rock Floyd
Producer
Lyrics
[Intro]
(Listen, I'm outside the club)
(You disappeared, we're both wearing nails)
(I could barely call your ass)
(Oh, oh you just texted me, nevermind)
[Verse 1]
Yeah
[Verse 2]
Fuckin' with a bitch like me, never easy
Been around the block a couple times, ****'s greasy
That **** need me, I need a check, it ain't no secret
Give a **** hell, he give me neck, bitch we even
Priceless
Candy coated ice wrist
Crack a hater teeth, you can't compete
I'm not a nice bitch
I ain't tryna kick it with you bitches, y'all some amateurs
I'm a solid bitch, I handle pussies like a bachelor
Pressure don't make nothing but diamond
Cop a couple chains, put it in a ring
Now I'm flexin' on my fucking pain
I'm sorry for 'em, I'm so sentimental
Shoot you in yo' dental
Now my come up fuckin' with yo' mental
Own it, you's a rental
Mind your business, eat yo' fuckin' lentils
Check my damn credentials
You a hater bitch with no potential
The coldest winter
Grab a sweater baby, bundle up
I been way too nice
But now it's time for me to run it up
I'm 'bout to piss these bitches off
[Verse 3]
Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick
I'm bout to piss these bitches off
Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick
I know I makes these bitches sick
[Verse 4]
Motherfuck that ****, he gon' leave you for a yellow bitch
She gon' fuck his credit and his life up, I could never trip
Bitches love to play in my aesthetic cause it's cute to
All that baby hair ain't worth a damn when **** shoot you
Bitches wanna see me in the slammer, they don't bother me
I don't beef for free, you wanna smoke me? Pay the booking fee
You want me to fail, bitch I can't do yo' ass now favors
I'm the truth and you a fable
Been that bitch, like fuck a label
I'm an artist not piece of paper
You hate me now, but on my life
That bitch gon' love me later
I'm necessary for the culture
They can't run without me
I'm still they mutha, fuck if they don't give a fuck about me
I gave my struggle to the public and they won't respect it
If I was naked with a 30 inch, they'd label me the realest bitch
I'm in this bitch
My kids all in the cut, they posted up like they on gang shit
And all I make is fucking hits
I'm bout to piss these bitches off
[Verse 5]
Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick
I'm bout to piss these bitches off
Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick
I know I makes these bitches sick
Written by: Brittnee Moore