Текст песни (слова) Tyga - B*tches (Chris Brown) lyrics

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I don't need no nig*as in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches ah
I don't need no ni*gas in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches ah

[Chris Brown:]
Higher than the moon, ni*ga what up
I hear em woofin, a nig*a need to shut up
While I'm in the pu*sy, face down and the butt up
Ya aint sh*t to her and me I'm just a f*ck up

F*ck a hand shake ni*ga we ain't brothers
On that West side where they reppin for they colors
Talkin big sh*t cuz my d*ck will make you stutter
All over your face like its butter, nutter

Right now, make her scream my name and pipe her right down
Nasty on the d*ck b*tch give a ni*ga a wipedown
Twenty four inches I’m rolling on chrome
My nig*as are smoking on that loud

B*tches try to flunt, Imma blow your back out
I ain't thinking bout a nig*a that walk past you
B*tch stole my blunt and said she love my tatoos
I'm that dude, I slang wood, that bamboo
But when she driving on that d*ck she a damn fool

[Hook:]
I don't need no nig*as in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches ah
I don't need no ni*gas in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches ah

All these b*tches I don't wanna see no ni*gas
All these b*tches I don't wanna see no ni*gas
Really really though, all these b*tches, i don't want no nig*as
Cause the real ni*gas that post it up already with us

[Chris Brown:]
It's a habit, in the club bottle magic
F*cking with these ratchets no purses they got baskets
Its a hand out, these b*tches high feeling guess they addicts
And I ask them are you in like Patrick

Playing with the pussy like it's madden
Fire like a dragon
The one say she like me then they all bandwagon
Been leadin as hoes, but they pretty like a pageant
She said she'd let me cut, I had to stab it, fo real though

[Hook]
I don't need no nig*as in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches ah
I don't need no ni*gas in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches ah

All these b*tches I don't wanna see no ni*gas
All these b*tches I don't wanna see no ni*gas
Really really though, all these b*tches, i don't want no nig*as
Cause the real ni*gas that post it up already with us

[Tyga:]
Audemar, big b*tch, big tipper
Super club, 20,000 for the liquor
You see the b*tch I'm with, you'll probably never get her
No cop bottles, they're for broke ni*gas

In the corner posted it up with the dome giver
Money flowin like a wet pu*sy, thats a long river
So you got your b*tch on lock, I'll slim jim her
It's that time of the month, f*ck timber

All my nig*as got a bottle with a blunt lit up
Before you pop up, throw your set up
Hop in this b*tch 'til the club's lights lit up, leave with her
Big spender, a b*tch shut up

T-Killa illuminati all through your body
She blow me like a twelve gang shawty you feel me
Pull up in the 'rari, the f*ckin life of the party
I'm getting hoes regardless
Before this rap sh*t, I'm honest

[Hook]
I don't need no nig*as in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches ah
I don't need no ni*gas in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches ah

All these b*tches I don't wanna see no ni*gas
All these b*tches I don't wanna see no ni*gas
Really really though, all these b*tches, i don't want no nig*as
Cause the real ni*gas that post it up already with us