Trend - b**hes lyrics

[Intro] Too many b**hes Still, there ain't enough b**hes I handle my business Can't handle your b**hes? On my mama, I'm on On my mama, I'm on On my mama, I'm on [Verse 1] b**h n***a say what? Remind me of my s*ut 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, n***as like b**hes 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 b**hes Like I've been to San Quentin [Hook] I'm on my fitness Got all kind of b**hes Work ‘em out like a gymnast You n***as like b**hes All in my dentures Remind me of my dentist Man I got b**hes Too many b**hes Still it ain't enough b**hes I handle my business Can't handle your b**hes? Keep ‘em out my business Man I got b**hes [Verse 2] Give me a pill I might pop one Give me a collar, might pop one And I trust no b**h, they might got something I f** you with condom, b**h 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, f** no, you a rat I ain't no trick, s** on this dick, and f** on my clique, like that, yeah straight up Them basketball wives just tryna have you n***as pay up Ho, s*ut, 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 b**hes and them b**hes got b**hes And I'm giving your mama my digits [Hook] [Verse 3] b**h got b**hes b**h, b**hes got b**hes 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 motherf**er, 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 bu*ton No keys, just touching, microwave oven Leave the cooking for the b**hes Unless I'm cooking up a pigeon [Hook]