Lyrics

(Ooh, ooh, yeah, yeah, oh, oh-oh, baby) (Oh, no-no, no-no, no-no-no) (Ooh, ooh, yeah, yeah, ooh, ooh, ooh-ooh, baby) (Oh, no-no, no-no, no-no-no) Big pimpin', big, big, big pimpin' Big pimpin', walk up in the back, limpin' (oh yeah, yeah-yeah) Big pimpin', big, big, big pimpin' (oh) Money stack up so tall, look like the hair on Marge Simpson (mm) Marge Simpson, ma-ma, Marge Simpson (on God) Marge Simpson, you can call me Marge Simpson (yeah, yeah) Big pimpin', get the money then dip Money stack up so tall, look like the hair on Marge Simpson Man, why you keep textin' my phone? Leave me alone, boy, I do not want your dick I see that nigga, he's thirsty as fuck I ain't givin' him shit, better swallow his spit All that lurkin' on my motherfuckin' page 'Til it's "Oops, I ain't mean to like that pic" Took him to Victoria's Secret, and bought him some bras Since he loves to act like a bitch I got a type, and it ain't you I like them niggas who spendin' that cash I like them fat Homer Simpson-ass niggas That feed me, they fat and they sass (bling) Bitch, I'm expensive, don't bring me nothin' on the floor I want everything locked in a glass Then we fuckin' fast Take him to the back of the store, then he's bustin' a hole in my mask Now give me your money, dummy I don't wanna hear what you cannot afford We back in his car, he's complaining how I spent all his money I said, "King, pass me the aux cord" I don't wanna hear that shit, be near that shit What the fuck do you niggas be thinkin'? Gotta wear a sleep mask, every time I fuck him So I won't see him cum quicker than I be blinkin' (mm) Big pimpin', big, big, big pimpin' Big pimpin', walk up in the back, limpin' Big pimpin', big, big, big pimpin' Money stack up so tall, look like the hair on Marge Simpson (mm) Marge Simpson, ma-ma, Marge Simpson (on God) Marge Simpson, you can call me Marge Simpson (yeah, yeah) Big pimpin', get the money then dip Money stack up so tall, look like the hair on Marge Simpson I don't want your man, darling Even though I could take him so damn quick I done sat up on his sack five times After he's done bought me the whole damn Saks Fifth Feeling like Taylor when I get this money 'Cause I spend it so, so swift 'Cause I only check for niggas with big bags like an airport trip You know my aesthetic, we could do credit, debit Make sure the receipt get shredded 'Cause he got a girl at home And if she comes for me, somebody coming for her, the paramedics Yeah, I said it, text it, DeJ Loaf Nigga better known to come full breaded (that money) Put a stack of money on the bottom of my sneakers That's how a real bitch walk up in wedges And he could die today, day or tomorrow, I won't even give no fuck I just hope nobody throw him a funeral, 'cause I could use those bucks I'ma make him turn into his grave, I ain't givin' no apologies If anything, when I buy the Prada with his cards That motherfucker better be proud of me (Ooh, ooh, yeah, yeah) that motherfucker better be proud of me (Oh, oh-oh, baby, oh, ooh, ooh) (Oh, no-no, no-no, no-no-no) (Ooh, ooh, yeah, yeah, ooh, ooh, ooh-ooh, baby) (Oh, no-no, no-no, no-no-no) better be proud of me
Writer(s): Elizabeth Harris, Oliver Larsson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out