Talkin’ Bout You

Intro:
I like the way this feel
Bitch for real
Bitch I'm talkin' bout you
You know that bitch a ho
Tap her on the shoulder
Let her know, know what I mean
Keep it real with a bitch, know what I mean?

Verse 1:
I always knew you was a greazy bitch
Tried to warn my homie but he didn't believe me bitch
Its a shame how you had dude trickin his chips
Less than a week later you was on my dick
Got his nose wide open, not to mention his wallet
Every chance he got he was comin out of pocket
You trippin my nigga, how you gon let this bitch hustle you
Wonder why this grown-ass man was so gullible
So stupid, she fuck with any nigga on the team
Bitch got a thing for diamond rings and ding-a-lings
On the floor, shopping sprees and fur coats
You pumped her head up now she think she the most
I just beat the pussy up and get ghost
And I never spend a penny, bitches supply me with hydro and Henny
I'm just speakin on the thangs you do

Chorus:
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
Bitch I'm talkin bout you (you you you)
And all the thangs you do
Down to bust down every nigga in my crew
Not my lady, not my baby, and you ain't my boo
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
Bitch I'm talkin bout you (you you you)
And all the rats that you roll with
Gon admit your whole clique on some ho shit
And if I wanted I could fuck them too
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
Bitch I'm talkin bout you

Verse 2:
So can you taste it ho it ain't no game
You gon make a nigga say yo name
Bitch I'm talkin to you
So can you taste it ho it ain't no game
You gon make a nigga say yo name
Bitch I'm talkin bout
Keisha, Leisha, April and Alicia
Nothing but them dog-ass hoes and straight skeezers
Type of bitch to come to your spot and smoke up your reefer
Then wanna give you brain, bitch drop some change
On this mothafuckin doity you puffin on
Put up on my reefer sack or leave it the fuck alone
You hoes want Patron shots and Grey Goose
Thinking a nigga gon supply your liquor just cuz you cute
Well goddamn, I am, appalled at y'all frauds
I ain't in it for the drawers, you all on my balls
Don't answer y'all calls
And you wonder why you can't get through

Chorus:
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
Bitch I'm talkin bout you (you you you)
And all the thangs you do
Down to bust down every nigga in my crew
Not my lady, not my baby, and you ain't my boo
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
Bitch I'm talkin bout you (you you you)
And all the rats that you roll with
Gon admit your whole clique on some ho shit
And if I wanted I could fuck them too
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
Bitch I'm talkin bout you

Verse 3:
You bitch nigga, you trick niggas
She playing with your dick and you payin her rent nigga
I specialize in this pimpin and breakin these hoes
Charge it all to a bitch, nigga thats how it goes
But who knows, I might bump into two hoes thats bout that action
Met em in the lobby, I'm probably gon be smashin
If I can get em to the suite, I'd rather hit the streets
So pat your feet to the street bitch, mash for rations
I was in the cranberry Chevy with Rosemary
Nymphomaniac from Gary who strip at the Black Cherry
But her momma think she work as a medical secretary
In the day but in the evenin she doin whats necessary
Just to stay up in them Gucci boots, suck a dick in the coupe
They say I'm hard on these heifers I just tell the truth
Cuz I'm just speaking on the thangs they do

Chorus

Outro:
And you, and you, and you, and you
I see you girl (bitch)
I see you girl (haha)
I'm off them ragged-ass hoes man