Nasty C - No More lyrics
Nasty C [Nsikayesizwe David Junior Ngcobo] Durban, KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa 🇿🇦
[Nasty C - No More lyrics]
I used to be a bum ass nigga, I'm not no more
Used to be a quitter, I'm not no more
So damn bitter, I'm not no more
Not no more, oh no no
Six in the mornin' I get up, for guap pa pa
Luxury cars and the gara rage
Christian Dior for the fa-fa ra-fah, fah, fah
Make the numbers go: Rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata rata tata tata tata, ra
I, make the numbers go rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata, ra (I, I)
Eish, I was even broke in December
Couldn't bring girls to the crib
If they see the way I live then
I might just be a virgin forever
But me, I was clever
Used to tell the hoes that my friend was my
Brother but his mother was my step one
'Cause his place was better
No tape on the windows
The couch real leather and they had a helper
"How come I don't see you on
The wall?" they would ask me
"You're the only one that's not
Tall in your family?"
God blessed me in other places and frankly
There's nothin' I can do about the
Cards that he hands me so skip the chatter
I got somethin' to show you
Climb into this bed, let me bend and fold you
You already know how that story ends
I'm so much better than the old me when
I used to be a bum ass nigga, I'm not no more
Used to be a quitter, I'm not no more
So damn bitter, I'm not no more
Not no more, oh no no
Six in the mornin' I get up, for guap pa pa
Luxury cars and the gara rage
Christian Dior for the fa-fa ra-fah, fah, fah
Make the numbers go: Rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata rata tata tata tata, ra
I, make the numbers go rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata (yeah) ra (I, I)
I'm kinda up right now and it's a blessing
Man you couldn't make me feel like
I'm any less a man
You see the passport tatted like a Mexican
How could you second-guess the man?
Bitch, you must be on coke tryna
Skip me like a PepsI can
I got songs for a nigga at his desk to jam
For a nigga with a rope
Around his neck to jam
That's why they ride for me
Like a Manchester fan
For the bitches that just wanna
Pop X and dance
Savin' up to go and get their chest enhanced
I even got the slow jam
Heaters for my cheaters
Who just wanna call their girl
For a second chance
But, fuck the chatter I got
Somethin' to show you
So when I get my GRAMMY I
Can tell you "I told you"
And only God knows how my story ends
But, I'm so much better than the old me when
Used to be a quitter, I'm not no more
So damn bitter, I'm not no more
Not no more, oh no no
Six in the mornin' I get up, for guap pa pa
Luxury cars and the gara rage
Christian Dior for the fa-fa ra-fah, fah, fah
Make the numbers go: Rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata rata tata tata tata, ra
I, make the numbers go rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata, ra (I, I)
Eish, I was even broke in December
Couldn't bring girls to the crib
If they see the way I live then
I might just be a virgin forever
But me, I was clever
Used to tell the hoes that my friend was my
Brother but his mother was my step one
'Cause his place was better
No tape on the windows
The couch real leather and they had a helper
"How come I don't see you on
The wall?" they would ask me
"You're the only one that's not
Tall in your family?"
God blessed me in other places and frankly
There's nothin' I can do about the
Cards that he hands me so skip the chatter
I got somethin' to show you
Climb into this bed, let me bend and fold you
You already know how that story ends
I'm so much better than the old me when
I used to be a bum ass nigga, I'm not no more
Used to be a quitter, I'm not no more
So damn bitter, I'm not no more
Not no more, oh no no
Six in the mornin' I get up, for guap pa pa
Luxury cars and the gara rage
Christian Dior for the fa-fa ra-fah, fah, fah
Make the numbers go: Rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata rata tata tata tata, ra
I, make the numbers go rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata
Rata tata tata tata (yeah) ra (I, I)
I'm kinda up right now and it's a blessing
Man you couldn't make me feel like
I'm any less a man
You see the passport tatted like a Mexican
How could you second-guess the man?
Bitch, you must be on coke tryna
Skip me like a PepsI can
I got songs for a nigga at his desk to jam
For a nigga with a rope
Around his neck to jam
That's why they ride for me
Like a Manchester fan
For the bitches that just wanna
Pop X and dance
Savin' up to go and get their chest enhanced
I even got the slow jam
Heaters for my cheaters
Who just wanna call their girl
For a second chance
But, fuck the chatter I got
Somethin' to show you
So when I get my GRAMMY I
Can tell you "I told you"
And only God knows how my story ends
But, I'm so much better than the old me when