YG, RJmrLA - Bitches lyrics

Too many bitches
Still, there ain’t enough bitches
I handle my business
Can’t handle your bitches?
On my mama, I’m on on my mama, I’m on
On my mama, I’m on

Bitch nigga say what? Remind me of my slut
Don't make me drop my nut and I’m on up
All raw, uncut
Broad in pocket, don’t touch my bucks
Business, get some, she on
The line, like five, and one
Pop things like five, dozen, huh?
Said she ready to go hold up, I got a show
You boys like hoes, niggas like bitches
MOB wonder why I ain't with ya?
I ain't got time, handle my business
All play not work, that's a low key scrimmage
Girl named Lindsey, girl named Molly
They both like me, we all like money
The end of my senses
I ain't cuffin no bitches
Like I've been to San Quentin

I'm on my fitness got all kind of bitches
Work ‘em out like a gymnast
You niggas like bitches all in my dentures
Remind me of my dentist man I got bitches
Too many bitches
Still it ain't enough bitches
I handle my business
Can’t handle your bitches?
Keep ‘em out my business man I got bitches

Give me a pill I might pop one
Give me a collar, might pop one
And I trust no bitch
They might got something
I fuck you with condom
Bitch that ain't my son
Yeah - they got the homie for a hot one
In these dank damn I’m tryna flock one
Give me this, give me that, fuck no
You a rat
I ain't no trick, suck on this dick, and
Fuck on my clique, like that
Yeah straight up
Them basketball wives just tryna have
You niggas pay up ho, slut
Ratchet – I’m going HAM ‘till they
Put me in the casket
And I'm packing, pimping and macking
Pull it out and get cracking
Look - I got rich bitches
And them bitches got bitches
And I'm giving your mama my digit's

I'm on my fitness got all kind of bitches
Work ‘em out like a gymnast
You niggas like bitches all in my dentures
Remind me of my dentist man I got bitches
Too many bitches
Still it ain't enough bitches
I handle my business
Can’t handle your bitches?
Keep ‘em out my business man I got bitches

Bitch got bitches bitch, bitches got bitches
See, I’m at the function
Front row, got it jumping
Show trap and I'm funking
Homie, you a woman
Probably really want a husband
Bet you feel it in your stomach
Hoes get nothing
But some dick and instructions
I don't need no interruptions
So we get scrumptious, man
Always into something
Don’t forget the motherfucker
That's my introduction
I'm out here hustling, you off the lean
I'm struggling cut it with percussion
Start the whip with a button
No keys, just touching, microwave oven
Leave the cooking for the bitches
Unless I'm cooking up a pigeon

I'm on my fitness got all kind of bitches
Work ‘em out like a gymnast
You niggas like bitches all in my dentures
Remind me of my dentist man I got bitches
Too many bitches
Still it ain't enough bitches
I handle my business
Can’t handle your bitches?
Keep ‘em out my business man I got bitches