(Intro)
Yeah
(Verse 1)
You ever have a bad b*tch try to kick it with you in your Twitter DMs?
I have—been a statistic and demonstrated against
Wicked minds of the twisted b*tches challengin’ scrubs
I had a b*tch expose me on MediaTakeOut
And after her 15 minutes of fame was up
She hit my phone back apologizin’, askin’, “Can we still f*ck?”
b*tch, please, miss me—I’m paid as hell
I got the game locked—arcade’s in jail
I wish my uncle wouldn’t have died, he woulda loved to see this
Find you a n*gg* who do molly with a buzz and beat it
I’m ’bout to walk up in this restaurant, like the upper echelon
Is you comin’? Guess you not—b*tch, I’ll call you
I find it hi-larious when bad-ass b*tches try to get your attention
Be lookin’ like fish out of water, it be for no (no) reason
A chick’ll drop a pencil and go, “Oh, (oh) Jesus”
Just to bend down to get this sh*t to show (show) cleavage
Haha, why can’t y’all just ask a n*gg* for his number like we do, y’all?
I’ll tell you, women don’t know how to flirt
And the ones who’s bad, they ain’t even gotta work
That’s real sh*t
(Chorus)
I see it all the time, anytime I shine
I’m just acknowledgin’, but I’m not tryna play y’all
This is it (what?) Bad b*tch*s can’t flirt good for sh*t
This is it (what?) They used to me comin’ out the dick
Real quick (what?) like this is it, (what?)
This is it (what?) Woo! (what?) Woo! (what?) Woo!
Women don’t know how to flirt (“That’s right”)
(Interlude)
You know how I come in
Talk to ’em, Chainz!
(Verse 2: 2 Chainz)
Okay, came up the street like a ladder—Aladdin
I bust through the hole like McFadden on Madden
A matter of fact, that’s a after effect
If the crime don’t fit, then I’m takin’ it back, now
f*ckin’ on this b*tch who wear eye contacts
And I pulled a b*tch off of eye contact
And I had the racks since she had a nice rack
Met her at Bergdorf, right by the nice racks
She said, “Should I get a shirt to match with the hat?
Or should I get the shoes that match with the slacks?”
Yeah, said it’s for her man, ain’t gotta be, they comin’
Had a lil’ Uzi on me—DJ Drama
Never trust a b*tch, and, yeah—I never will
Okay, sometimes—if she got sex appeal
I meant to say—I like to have sex and take some pills
I meant to say—I like to relax and make a mill’
I meant to say—I like to relax and make a meal
I mean, they both the same thing, but I ain’t talkin’ grill
I ain’t talkin’ dinner, I ain’t talkin’ supper, this the bloodsucker
Met the b*tch at FuddRucker off Amityville
She had a man on the real, he had his hand on the steel
f*cked in the Camry still, I shoulda passed on the real
Would have assist with her ass, I got more dimes than a pass
And if I knew you’d do what’s crazy, I wouldn’t of let me smash
(Chorus: Royce Da 5’9″ + sample)
I see it all the time, anytime I shine
I’m just acknowledgin’, but I’m not tryna play y’all
This is it (what?) Bad b*tch*s can’t flirt good for sh*t
This is it (what?) They used to me comin’ out the dick
Real quick (what?) like this is it, (what?)
This is it (what?) Woo! (what?) Woo! (what?) Woo!
Women don’t know how to flirt (“That’s right”)
(Outro: DJ Premier)
Yo, Chainz, Royce
Remember PRhyme 1?
Remember when I said, “Word? That’s how you feel up on this track?
Let a b*tch come and try to sh*t on that!”
Yeah, and on that note; move on to the next one!
Hahahahahahahahaha!
