Pms.

Lyrics

[Intro] Yo [Verse] I used to be comfortable tellin' bitches shit that ain't none of they business I was tryna find my power, they was usin' it against me You can't pay me by the hour, no seven twenty-five SOS, I get it wet, he gotta dip his dick in rice They want me to be a rapper, I want me to be myself If rappin' happen to happen, I'm keepin' health over wealth They hate when I masturbate, get too cocky, feelin' myself I share a sun with Beyoncé, couple kids, cute fiancé I like bein' me, a lot of these hoes can't say the same And I can rap for hours, no hook necessary, change the game Bitches love a jingle, that's okay, but I like givin' brain I ain't tryna make you bitches dance, I'm tryna heal my pain Bitches'll call you an alcoholic, drive you to drink Chillin', get hit with an iceberg, be mad when you sink Might be that bitch, but I'm very human, when I shit, it stink I see what you hoes compare me to, you not allowed to speak All I gotta do is be humble and they gon' give me me, that's a lie Hoes don't wanna see nobody win 'cause they would never try My art from the heart, these hoes can't even look me in the eye But want me to be swayed by they opinions, bitch, I'd rather die Pray for my demise, dig up my past like they the FBI Then hop they ass online like ACAB, haha, am I right? I'm way too generous, can't take these bitches serious Can't give these hoes no benefits of doubt, I'm on my period PMSin', fed up with you bitches, ride like brooms to witches Poison apples, pass 'em out, I'm vicious, Glock pull up, she glitchin', ooh Crabby bitch, she itchin', gave her the six-nine, she snitchin', yeah Fuck respectin' women, I got richer in the kitchen PMSin', fed up with you bitches, ride like brooms to witches Poison apples, pass 'em out, I'm vicious, Glock pull up, she glitchin', ooh (Yeah) Crabby bitch, she itchin', gave her the six-nine, she snitchin', yeah Fuck respectin' women, I got richer in the kitchen, yeah [Outro] I did it that time