Trina - No Lie lyrics
[Trina - No Lie lyrics]
Frail faces showing signs of rejection
You broads stressin
I guess I'm still Da Baddest
Yea that's what I'm guessin (uh)
Pineapple Ciroc a double shot of white
I got a bag full of money
That will change up ya life
Fort Knox in the basement, gold bars forever
Lyrics turn to bars they'll
Remember me forever (yeah)
Short change is what I call them broads
I got acres in my crib
Book these shows on my lawn
Red Eye flights, Miami here I come
I only fornicate with bread cause
That money make me cum
See that villa out in Cali
Mansion on the mountain
I slide this pussy on him call
It slidin down the mountain (uh)
Pussy whipped but all I see
Is the crown, stiletto Louboutins
Hermes gown you bum bitches don't make a
Sound cause when my
Flight touch ground I shut yo whole city down
You hoes wanted to rap, I wanted to shop
So I sat in the trap and
I cooked up the blocks
Made blocks squares, now I'm pushin a yacht
To mansion with spiral stairs
To a Palm Beach out in Laud (yeah)
(Huh) I gotta whole lotta everything
Never married but a whole lotta wedding rings
From rappers and ball players
That smelt the g-string
Groupie niggas who I turned household names
Street bitch and I been bout money
If I had to be honest I
Don't need this rap money
Cause the pussy gone sell more
Than rap show money
Fuck I need a pimp for CEOing my money
(preach, yeah) and you a rap bitch dummy
And a lil dick nigga can't do nothing for me
And I still don't know nann bitch
Who can come for me
These bum ass bitches Kevin Hart mad funny
No Lie!
I'm the shit don't push me I get ruthless
Stashed burner on deck where the coupe is
I ain't hard to find
You hoes can come and meet me
I am always in the press
I am "Hip-Hop Weekly"
(Mid-Mid) Middle finger blowing smoke
To the Paps
A couple mill you'll get a photo of my crotch
No panties, no sweat and it's wet
Me and you no phones fucking on a closed set
No Lie!
You broads stressin
I guess I'm still Da Baddest
Yea that's what I'm guessin (uh)
Pineapple Ciroc a double shot of white
I got a bag full of money
That will change up ya life
Fort Knox in the basement, gold bars forever
Lyrics turn to bars they'll
Remember me forever (yeah)
Short change is what I call them broads
I got acres in my crib
Book these shows on my lawn
Red Eye flights, Miami here I come
I only fornicate with bread cause
That money make me cum
See that villa out in Cali
Mansion on the mountain
I slide this pussy on him call
It slidin down the mountain (uh)
Pussy whipped but all I see
Is the crown, stiletto Louboutins
Hermes gown you bum bitches don't make a
Sound cause when my
Flight touch ground I shut yo whole city down
You hoes wanted to rap, I wanted to shop
So I sat in the trap and
I cooked up the blocks
Made blocks squares, now I'm pushin a yacht
To mansion with spiral stairs
To a Palm Beach out in Laud (yeah)
(Huh) I gotta whole lotta everything
Never married but a whole lotta wedding rings
From rappers and ball players
That smelt the g-string
Groupie niggas who I turned household names
Street bitch and I been bout money
If I had to be honest I
Don't need this rap money
Cause the pussy gone sell more
Than rap show money
Fuck I need a pimp for CEOing my money
(preach, yeah) and you a rap bitch dummy
And a lil dick nigga can't do nothing for me
And I still don't know nann bitch
Who can come for me
These bum ass bitches Kevin Hart mad funny
No Lie!
I'm the shit don't push me I get ruthless
Stashed burner on deck where the coupe is
I ain't hard to find
You hoes can come and meet me
I am always in the press
I am "Hip-Hop Weekly"
(Mid-Mid) Middle finger blowing smoke
To the Paps
A couple mill you'll get a photo of my crotch
No panties, no sweat and it's wet
Me and you no phones fucking on a closed set
No Lie!