City Girls - Enough/Better lyrics

Y'all hoes done fucked up
Bitch, don't make me come out
Wig in a rubber band (Band)
Wait slap a bitch down with the fuck shit
I'm talkin' to you ho
Y'all hoes better turn up

Enough is enough,  bitch
City Girls with the fuck shit
Nah, don't blame it on you drunk bitch (Nah)
See we can wylin', ho
The whole clique gon' follow ho (Bitch)
Be at your door like Domino's
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 playin' hoes
Play with your kids or the radio, bitch
Another comma, millionaire status
A cool one, twenty 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, talkin' 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)
Bein' me made me famous
Titties sittin', 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 cuffin' tricks
Calling phones, talkin' slick
Lil' bitch, who taught you?
Mama should abort you if you in my view
I would've pulled up and fought you
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
(Fuck shit) y'all hoes better turn 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 cover 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 comin' in varieties
I'm fightin' loss
Fightin' demons and anxiety
I really used to sleep on palettes
Now I'm sittin' in the condo
Like it's a palace

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 runnin' outta
Stores to awards shows (Blessed)
Momma we made it, can't wait 'til you come
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
Brought a bag to the hood when I touch down
(Touch down)
Did this shit for Dade County, yeah
We up now

Man, don't make me put this wig
In a rubber band again
(Wig in a rubber band again)
Still the same, ain't changed
Just changed where I live
(Changed where I live)