Troy Ave - That’s My b**h lyrics

(Chorus) 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 d**h 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 k** 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) (Outro) 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 a** ni**as That’s a fact though F**k you a bum a** ni**as got an opinion on a millionaire Barber shop talk a** 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