Troy Ave – That’s My Bi**h Lyrics

And she be mad when we don’t lay up
And then we fight and f**k and make up
I’m sick and tired, I don’t stay up
But it’s ok cause you my bi**h, bi**h, bi**h
Every day you ni**as wake up
You never tryna get your cake up
You got your hate but not your weight up
But it’s ok cause you a bi**h

(Verse 1)
Ni**as on my d**k more than my ho
I take his bi**h to the Bell, f**ked her for tacos
I bought my baby Chanel, told her to rock those
Logo shoes with the matching purse, yeah I know it hurt
Put a caviar in the hood, I’m a star
In the Waldo, eating some beluga, caviar
I just sold sold some fishscale, then I bought some fish eggs
My watch sick and don’t tick but being broke is played
Ni**as is dying, only death could delay em
I’m getting to it, I’m on…but I ain’t f**king playing
It’s time to win it, time to end it, game six, JM
Ironically I’m smoother than jazz, you ni**as talking like Jazz
You played out like…sonic, I’m going for cash
In the latest model Benz, I bought this s**t cash
Y’all just keep an eye on me, should call you click lash
Every whip and chain I buy is like a f**king lash
Slave to the block, waving the Glock
If you was supposed to be the man would you fake it or not?
Yup, crabs in the barrel, you get out, they looking for help
I’m closing that barrel, set fire and watching you melt

(Repeat Chorus)

(Verse 2)
But we ain’t gonna fast forward to avoid haters
They want me to kill em, I just want to get more paper
I’m…picking out Versace wallpaper
My lil bro Jeep interior gon be all gator
And ni**a you ain’t even got a whip, that’s a crock of s**t
And you ain’t even play my hits, that’s about a bi**h
That I’m f**king, you loving
Got you hot as an oven
You’s a jive turkey, that’s a cook with the stuffing
Just a bird ni**a, I can flip em and snuff em
You got some nerve to be in my city and fronting
When I brought the town back, I generate the talk
I made it respectable again to be from New York
I heard that they heckling him, when I see him, it’s chalk
These ni**as is food, I’m running down on em like forks
I’m making four points, I’m bringing in four joints
I won’t get caught but the bulletin will be all points
I’m ghetto as f**k and so I don’t care
I pray to god with the devil in my ear
Smooth criminal s**t

(Repeat Chorus)

It’s ok cause you’s a bi**h
Not a bi**h like my bi**hes
You know my bi**hes realer than you bi**h ass ni**as
That’s a fact though
F**k you a bum ass ni**as got an opinion on a millionaire
Barber shop talk ass ni**as man
BSB Records, Troy Ave
We getting on on our own merit
We don’t d**kride
We self made and self paid
Powder, word