Bitch Yeah

(Timmy Da HitMan)

Huh, what?

What? What? What? What? What?

What? What?

What’s crackin’? What? (What?)

Or whatever I’m brackin’ on, bitch

Yeah, that my blood, I got all Fives ’round this bitch

These hoes wan’ fuck, these niggas can’t fuck with none of us in this bitch

I’m, a hit at your clique with the stick (Baow)

Make me turn you lil’ boys to a lick (A lick)

I got stripper big booty bitches blowin’ up on my phone

Too much swag, stylist cop more clothes inside of my home

Put yo’ bitch in VLone

Bitch, play what you please along as you don’t QC on

Bitch, I make you bleed, ho

Bitch, I know I bleed, ho

Band red 5, big B, ho (Hell, yeah)

Bitch, get on your knees, ho (Yeah, yeah)

Come and suck it with no teeth, ho (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

I’m rich, I’m rich, I’m rich, bitch, I’m rich as shit

Come get it, got to whip it

Know I got to whip it, nigga, come and get your bitch

Molly, Molly, Holly, Wolly, had a 30, whip out his body

I don’t play that shit, I keep that chopper

I might buy me a Maserati

Shoot that drum at that bitch, it’s

‘Fore get to my shit, you know I’ma pop it

Bitch, give me yo’ soul, give me yo’ body

Swag out the bitch, pop out for mama

I get high in this bitch (I’m gone)

I get so high in this bitch (I’m gone)

I might make her a nigga

Bitch, come touch your toes

Finna make a R&B bitch come here off her phone (Yeah)

If we fuck ’bout how good she can sing, bitch, get that phone (Yeah)

Bitch, get that phone (Oh)

Bitch, get that phone (Yeah, yeah)

Bitch, get that phone, ho

Bitch, get that phone (Yeah, yeah)

My brothers are kickin’ a door (Yeah, yeah)

I don’t like that nigga, a ho (Yeah, yeah)

I don’t like that lil’ boy’s bitch

I do not like for my ho to hear none these songs

Like when I break her back to my songs

Lookin’ at these bitch make racks at home

Tell me what type if time you on

Buy me clothes, they fit me right

I don’t know who fuckin’ side you on

I know that this wrong and they real right

I ain’t put money on yo’ head, that’s right

Bang red, that blood, my thug, my Five

slime get this party hyped

She rock soon as I get outside

Rudolph beam on his nose and eyes

which one gon’ eat me right?

Geekin’, I’m geekin’, I’m higher than high (Uh-huh)

Geekin’, I’m geekin’, I’m higher than high (Bitch)

I get higher with her when I’m shoppin’ online (Bitch, yeah)

I can get all my words to this, everytime (Bitch, yeah)

And this bitch without you on my side (Bitch, yeah)

You on my side, bitch, don’t play with my money you know you my guy (Bitch, yeah)

I got factory tires on bottom of each of my rides (Bitch, yeah)

I got factory tires on bottom of each of my rides (Bitch, yeah)

I got more money than you lil’ boys, y’all some bitches (Bitch, yeah)

I can’t even drive and got more cars, your shit is leased or rented (Bitch, yeah)

Know we make shit hype about on back got switches (Bitch, yeah)

I don’t give no fuck ’bout who rockstar, I don’t want you bitches (Bitch, yeah)