Lyrics Swollen Members

Swollen Members

Bollywood Chick

I gotta Bollywood Chick, she says she wants to know what Hollywood is,

I gotta Bollywood chick, I love the way she makes her hips do a twist,

Yeah I gotta hip hop chick her favorite rappers Pac and Big,

I gotta hip hop chick ask her who's better and she say they both the shit.

She Sexy She Workin

I'm a slum dog millionaire

Thug livin', out of prison

Pistols in the Air

When the Remi's in the system

Ain't no tellin if Nyce goin diss em, hit em that flip em

Activate her mouth talking down about the pimpin

Move to the next chick and continue my mission

Money over bitches, money over snitches

Money over this over that

If you rather bring it back

Shawty sayin Nyce gimme one more chance

I'm like I'm not tryna be you man

The things these fellas do for romance

You can hate but you can't stop my swag

Hey Tecca Nina

I gotta Bollywood dame ya

Gotta have gouda moola queso gotta have change ta

Get her to give you

Poonana Nina gets brain cause my money game is insane I'm a hip hop hall of famer

Nina gots grills so the bitches wanna know me

Wrists don't chill lookin betta than your rollie

Bollywood bitch want the Louis and the Chloe

And that's what she'll get after she do me and blow me

Black, white and Indian she'll take from any man

But when we are finished she then begin to spend to get me in

Cause my dicks a tight fit fight with the nice split Tech Nina

I do that Bollywood chick likes this

I met this fly young hip chick

Like pink lipstick

She said I like a bad man I said come get me

Known to ball

I said I got it all

More writing on my body than a bathroom stall

Getting cash by the fist full

Pinky and my wrist glow

First I took her shopping and then to the disco

Windy, Windy, grind on the stallian

Double D Cup fuck with the champion

Yes I am that dude

I said when God made you he was in a good mood

She said I can't be contolled only unleashed

I said you came to the right place baby I'm a beast

Hop into my wip cops pulled me over

Don't worry bout a thing shorty Mad Child sober

She listen to my music and she loves every verse

Now she's my bottom bitch got my piece in her purse

Ya she kept the trap shut when police went to work

If anyone disrespect my boo they gettin murked

She called me from the deli

In LA on my cellai

I'm flying in tommorow well I'm already ready

The jewel on the third eye

She jumped on the red eye

We do the right thing my best friend like besta

My little Indian queen

The kind of glamour girl you can see in your dreams

Moves like a gypsy

Her groove got me tipsy

Her nod of her hips

Move a rod of concipse

Very flexible studys the yoga

Charming snake play with the cobra

Can't slow down bangled tiger

Jump a fever know why I like her

[Chorus]