Enough/Better - City Girls

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', hoe

The whole clique gon' follow hoe (Bitch)

Be at your door like dominoes

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 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 touchdown (Touchdown)

Did this shit for Dade County', yeah we up now

Miami, 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)