lirik lagu jt, nicki minaj – no bars remix (ft. nicki minaj)
verse 1]
pay for this p~ssy, n~gga (yeah), get yo’ bands up
oh, you ain’t trickin’, n~gga? i’ma hit yo’ mans up (the f~ck)
cold~ass c~cky b~tch, fur in the summertime (brr)
he gon’ keep the bills paid ’cause he know a b~tch fine
b~tches always in my business, “jt, what you really do?” (what?)
i be at home playin’ fetch by a swimmin’ pool (bing)
i’m a real big dog, b~tch, you a scr~ppy~doo
doin’ all that wifey sh~t knowin’ he don’t f~ck with you
poster girl p~ssy, in yo’ n~gga dreams
i’ma hold a semi, bust whoever in between (bop)
gangster b~tch, jt, medellín
haven’t heard from the opps, yeah, they ain’t said a thing (shh)
i’ll be d~mned, n~gga, you know who i am, n~gga (huh)
long way from crackin’ cars and pullin’ scams, n~gga (yeah)
b~tches on my d~ck, pretty like a transgеnder (ow)
sit this p~ssy on his chin in a chinchilla
fifty flows up
can’t hop out my coupe unless i lift thе doors up (ayy)
told my n~gga twin turbo, v8 the motor (skrrt)
self esteem drop every time i show up, yeah
wrist doin’ eighty in a thirty~five (ice, ayy)
shut marni down for some furry slides (sloppy)
look him in his eyes and tell him dirty lies (huh)
cop me chanel, n~gga, thirty times
the price on this kelly say i’m h~lla paid (yeah)
crocodile birkin from the everglades (yeah)
and i ain’t gotta do a motherf~ckin’ thing
i ain’t gotta do a motherf~ckin’ thing, b~tch (period)
[verse 2]
yo’ face card declined ?
buggin’ on my time
these n~ggas and these b~tches better knock on my shine
ain’t a b~tch you can tell, that got more money than mine
that new chanel drop, i’m finna cop like k9’s
[?]
so please hit recline, i said ” the streams gone be mine”
so b~tch hit recline, all these b~tches just be lyin’
[?][?][?][?], ’cause you slow b~tches never match that
[verse 3]
second verse to you hatin’~ass hoes (tired~ass)
who get mad every time i strike a pose (d~mn)
i’m rick’d down from my head to my toes (yep)
hood b~tch, dressed like a weirdo (huh)
run away, now i’m steppin’ in some runway
b~tch, you can’t f~ck with my on yo’ birthday (never)
free my real b~tches, corrlink and j~pay (free my b~tches)
you gon’ be home, f~ck what the judge say
i’m low~key, b~tches f~ck with my anxiety
i’m prayed up, and i’m waitin’ on my rivalry
i’m the hype, nah, y’all ain’t gotta hype me
i’m that b~tch, give a f~ck who don’t like me
it’s grind time, no flossin’ (let’s get it)
pulled out the truck and put the porsche in
these b~tches tired, they exhausted (tired~ass hoes)
got b~tches tannin’ for this dark skin
b~tch, i’m really from the trenches
where it’s shots, i ain’t talkin’ ’bout syringes (bop, bop, bow)
yeah, i’m really from them trenches
pretty~ass lips make these b~tches cop syringes, mwah
no bars
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