I Got Bitchez - 11/5

Too many bitches Still, there ain't enough bitches I handle my business Can't handle your bitches? On my mama, I'm on On my mama, I'm on On my mama, I'm on Bitch nigga say what? Remind me of my slut Don't make me drop my nut And I'm on up All raw, uncut Broad in pocket, don't touch my bucks Business, get some, she on the line, like five, and one Pop things like five, dozen, huh? Said she ready to go Hold up, I got a show You boys like hoes, niggas like bitches MOB wonder why I ain't with ya? I ain't got time, handle my business All play not work, that's a low key scrimmage Girl named Lindsey, girl named Molly They both like me, we all like money The end of my senses I ain't cuffin no bitches Like I've been to San Quentin I'm on my fitness Got all kind of bitches Work 'em out like a gymnast You niggas like bitches All in my dentures Remind me of my dentist Man I got bitches Too many bitches Still it ain't enough bitches I handle my business Can't handle your bitches? Keep 'em out my business Man I got bitches Give me a pill I might pop one Give me a collar, might pop one And I trust no bitch, they might got something I fuck you with condom, bitch that ain't my son Yeah - they got the homie for a hot one In these dank damn I'm tryna flock one Give me this, give me that, fuck no, you a rat I ain't no trick, suck on this dick, and Fuck on my clique, like that, yeah straight up Them basketball wives just tryna have you niggas pay up Ho, slut, ratchet – I'm going HAM 'till they put me in the casket And I'm packing, pimping and macking Pull it out and get cracking Look - I got rich bitches and them bitches got bitches And I'm giving your mama my digits Bitch got bitches Bitch, bitches got bitches See, I'm at the function Front row, got it jumping, show trap and I'm funking Homie, you a woman, probably really want a husband Bet you feel it in your stomach, hoes get nothing But some dick and instructions, I don't need no interruptions So we get scrumptious, man, always into something Don't forget the motherfucker, that's my introduction I'm out here hustling, you off the lean, I'm struggling Cut it with percussion, start the whip with a button No keys, just touching, microwave oven Leave the cooking for the bitches Unless I'm cooking up a pigeon