Enough / Better

Y'all hoes done fucked up

Bitch, don't make me put my 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!

See we can wild out, hoe

The whole clique gon' follow, hoe

Be at your door like Domino's

And your main **** love me

Bruh been tryna fuck me

For the bread, walk him like a puppy

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 Patek

Dope bitch, magic

I live a poor bitch dreams

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 (Period)

Titties sittin', no sports bra (Yeah)

Fuck a **** in a sports car (Skrrt)

Spike his drink at a sports bar

Y'all hoes make me sick

Always cuffin' tricks

Callin' phones, talkin' slick

Lil' bitch, who taught you?

Mama should abort you

If you in my view, I woulda 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 me 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 covers of billboards

Locked up, nominated, BET awards

City Girls, talk my shit, they scream

Real ass bitch, I ain't flexin' for streams

I'm fresh out, **** 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 till you come

Shot up my Benz, I was pregnant, I was seven months (Damn)

Me and baby son was 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 Country, 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)