Murda Mami

Yeah! Pussies don't get pussy

Brooklyn (uh-huh)

Kinda short, dark-skinned, she a fly lil' bitch

Be up in all them clubs spillin Dom P and shit

Know the boy stunt, Jonathan Kelsey clutch

Yves Saint Laurent fronts on her bags to the pumps

D's love her aura, Balenciago fedora

Lame niggaz bore her, struttin like she Kimora

She'll take a kilo and stuff it up in the coochie

Quicker than Ron, stash it between her coochie (ha ha)

Breeze through the hood, niggaz treat her like a O.G.

First bitch in the hood, with the Bentley Coupe GT (yes)

Brooklyn is the team, Alexander McQueen

Bustin down a bird and balance it with a beam

Five five, slanted eyes, bitch walk is mean

Mahushi Ron bracelets and Armani jeans

They're called skinny, my bitch is like a rasta with it

Black car, red bottoms, only mobster in it

It's like damn, bitch, niggaz lovin me now

Oh-nine Bonnie & Clyde doin it now - whoa

Murder murder, these bitches ain't never heard of

Gettin money, gettin hurt up, impatient to leak them burners

Aiyyo Ross, send them bitches to the boss

The blood claat flyest bad bitch in New York

Y'all hoes better bow the fuck down and pay homage

I'm ten million sold and that's SoundScan knowledge

And all y'all rat bitches sound garbage

While me and Ross like the hood version of bombings

Bars give me style like when you steppin in my

The 38 special in my Chanel sock

Now I got the llama and Ermet's dark

Word to sly swifter fox who above me?

Say hello in pumps, Nickelus Curt with that bomb

So ladies raise your glass to this man song

Money ain't a thing, just look at my pinkie rings

So many numbers in the bank, shit could never be the same

Tall four Velours, withdrawals by Michael Kors

And I watch a pretty penny I'm talkin hundred or more

My critique for 'leet, not for the cheap

And my money in the street way longer than my receipt

Dealin with the money, no (Monie) all (In The Middle)

I'm dealin with opponents, they gettin riddled

Box niggaz up, on the ropes

Louis sneakers, Louis luggage, the colognes and soaks

Smellin like money, my body tatted with hundreds

Oh-nine Bonnie Clyde, gotta live with it like uh