Complaining

Sweetheart, let me make you understand something These bitch always gonna have a problem with you For one you bad as a motherfucker For two, your nigga having money Keke and Te-te got Dre-dre and Ri-ri My theme song on repeat, Mesha she a rider Throwing dick inside her No Baby Phat no BeBe Isabel Marant, Emilio Pucci, Christian Louis Vuitton Sara operated careless Mouth on me she do it wrong Tonya get on top of me, probably while blowing strong Excuse me, I meant to say A+ Fuck up her hair and makeup In her deep, she go to sleep And when I leave she don't wake up When I walk in with that bag She know it's gon' be raining Spending all that paper, it's a damn shame ain't it? My little mama bad Outfit look like it's painted When I threw that money up them hoes fainted Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining I buy her what she want and the world can't understand it Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining My ho ain't complaining Cocaine Aston Martin, I just bought that (I been scared to drive it) My P.O. find out he probably ask me "how the fuck you buy it?" Pull into the club with a bag full of bands (scurr) and a Maserati Pants sagging, got it raining, her body painted All the bitches turn they nose up, no my ho she's not complaining Spend a night with me vacation, taken, not gonna make you famous Head back to my trap, pull up in that Mercedes Say she feel it in her stomach, grip her waist, she making faces When I walk in with that bag She know it's gon' be raining Spending all that paper, it's a damn shame ain't it? My little mama bad Outfit look like it's painted When I threw that money up them hoes fainted Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining I buy her what she want and the world can't understand it Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining My ho ain't complaining Ice melting, champagne bottles White sand 'round, Baywatch her Bad bitches in two-pieces your dame out here, wanna mainline her I stay grinding, I can't stop it, need eight commas, my strap on me No seat-belt, make it spray, M-I-A, yeah heat felt Big nuts with a lot of heart and a foreign car with a foreign broad No rest and relaxation all my keys probably say "R&R" Back to jail with this pistol then that might make me a falling star When I walk in with that bag She know it's gon' be raining Spending all that paper, it's a damn shame ain't it? My little mama bad Outfit look like it's painted When I threw that money up them hoes fainted Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining I buy her what she want and the world can't understand it Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining My ho ain't complaining