Enough/Better

Y'all hoes done fucked up (bitch, don't make me put my wig in a rubber band)

What? (Slap a bitch down with the fuck shit)

I'm talking to you, hoe (y'all hoes better tighten up)

Enough is enough, bitch, City Girls with the fuck shit

Nah, don't blame it on you drunk bitch (nah)

See we cajole a hoe, the whole clique gon' follow, hoe (bitch)

Be at your door like Dominos, and your main nigga love me (haha)

Bruh been tryna fuck me

For the bread, walk him like a puppy (walk him)

It ain't no love for you both side playing hoes

Play with your kids or the radio, bitch

Another comma, millionaire status

A cool one, 20 on the Patek

Dope bitch magic

I live a poor bitch dreams (yeah)

Coco Chanel me, please

Y'all hoes too dangerous (dangerous)

In my comments, talking crazy (crazy)

But I can't make no bitch famous (nah)

City Girls ain't changing

But shit, how could you blame me? (Blame me)

Being me made me famous

Titties sitting, no sports bra (yeah)

Fuck a nigga in a sports car (skrrt)

Spike his drink at a sports bar

Y'all hoes make me sick, always cuffing tricks

Calling phones, talking slick

Lil' bitch, who taught you? Mama should abort you

If you in my view, I would've pulled up and fought you (yeah)

But I'm way up, you bitches too low

New ass, new teeth, bitch, check out the glow (period)

Bitch, don't make put my wig in a rubber band (band)

Slap a bitch down with the fuck shit

Y'all hoes better tighten up

Didn't think bitches like us could do better

From Dade County, straight to Coachella

My heart cold, better bring two sweaters

And your best bitch, we'll take whoever

Gutter bitch, grace the covers of the billboards

Locked up, nominated, BET awards

City Girls, talk that shit they scream

Real ass bitch, I ain't flex for streams

I'm fresh out, niggas coming in varieties

I'm fighting loss, fighting demons, and anxiety

I really used to sleep on palettes

Now I'm sitting in the condo like it's a palace, uh

Main bitch locked up, had to hold it down (down)

With a baby in my stomach at the Rolling Loud (facts)

Uh, kept you bitches out my game room (period

'Cause y'all the same fake hoes from The Shade Room (Shade Room)

I came from running outta stores to award shows (blessed)

Mama, we made it, can't wait 'til you come home

Shot up my Benz, I was pregnant, I was seven months (damn)

Me and baby Summer too blessed up (blessed up)

Now everybody want a verse from us

All the trappers wanna go and cop a purse for us

Bought a bag to the hood when I touch down (touch down)

Did this shit for Dade County, yeah, we up now (Miami)

Don't make me put this wig in a rubber band again

Still the same, ain't changed, just changed where I live