Z-ro - Call My Phone lyrics

(feat. Slim Thug) [Chorus:] b**h, you ain't gotta call my phone Matta fact all you hoes can leave me alone I just want my money And now one of you nappy-headed hoes goin get none from me n***a, you ain't gotta call my phone Matta fact all you n***as can leave me alone I just want my money And now one of my fake a** homeboys won't get none from me [Z-RO:] I don't need know help my n***a I can do bad on my own And I don't need no company lil momma Even tho I know you give graded on I rather play my Xbox 360 while smoking and sipping drank Ain't even goin waste no gas, going to get some a**, I'm a keep my gas in my tank Keep my money in my pocket I never leave it with hoes Put a ring on my own finger cause I sleep with Z-RO Homie I'ont giva f** about what you drive or how much money ya got And I don't giva damn if y'all really like me or not I see ya lips moving but I can't hear nothing, cause I'm not listening Hoe you only talking to me because my teeth are glistening Y'all n***as be riding dicks so much y'all need a dil*o That way when you think about Z-RO, you can shove it up on yo a** real slow I'm a gangsta but I'm a man first, then I tallerate, no disrespect My momma if it's money for me to make weed goin slip the s** [Chorus] [Slim Thug:] Slim Thugga, Mothaf**a I'm tryna stay rich, f** a b**h (f** a b**h) I rather hit the studio and make another hit (another hit) Stop calling on my phone mayn I'm on some other sh** Just leave a n***a 'lone, I ain't goin s** cause ya f**ing with Cause b**h you ain't about to get no dime or no quality time I rather be on my grind, smoking weed, writing rhymes All you rapping a** n***as calling me to get signed Want me to rap for free, you done lost yo mind (you done lost yo mind) I'ont care how long I knew ya give a f** if we can Went to high school together giva f** if we friends Ya ain't talking bout sh** if you ain't talking bout N's Bring ya ten G's, I see what'cha talking bout then All you roaching a** n***as and hoes in my face Can't get it crunk for me, no so don't waste Yo mothaf**in crime tryna plot on mine I got my cash in my stash locked down, so now... [Chorus] [Z-RO:] It's a shame having a cell phone, but don't want it to ring Cause I don't wanna deal with bull sh** people and the bull sh** they might bring That's why I send them the voice mail heaven (I don't wanna talk) Cause bull sh** run a marathon, I rather keep it real and walk I don't giva damn how pretty you look, you can still kiss my a** Especially if I die to choose between you and my cash I'm a choose money everytime, anyway I always get a new whip Besides, I'm what b**hes be tryna find, I'm young, black and I'm rich If you thinking I'm goin pay money to hit that a** I gotta trick fo yo ugly a** I'll just miss you right after I hit you and then go f** yo friends Then you'll be ready to committing suicide and then I'll never speak to you again My n***a Gredy, my n***a Rickby, my n***a Michael Coleon There them only three n***as phone number programed in my phone They call me the king of the ghetto, because I rule this b**h I'm bout business I don't participate in foolishness, b**h [Chorus]