City Girls – Enough/Better lyrics

City Girls – Enough/Better lyrics

[Part 1: Enough]

[JT, Yung Miami]
Y’all hoes done f****d up
B***h, don’t make me come out, wig in a rubber band (Band)
Wait
Slap a b***h down with the f**k s**t
I’m talkin’ to you ho
Y’all hoes better turn up

[Yung Miami]
Enough is enough, b***h
City Girls with the f**k s**t
Nah, don’t blame it on you drunk b***h (Nah)
See we can wylin’, hoe
The whole clique gon’ follow hoe (B***h)
Be at your door like dominoes
And your main n***a love me (Haha)
Bruh been tryna f**k me
For the bread, walk him like a puppy (Walk him)
It ain’t no love for you both side playin’ hoes
Play with your kids or the radio, b***h
Another comma, millionaire status
A cool one, twenty on the Patek
Dope b***h, magic
I live a poor b***h dreams (Yeah)
Coco Chanel me, please

[JT]
Y’all hoes too dangerous (Dangerous)
In my comments, talkin’ crazy (Crazy)
But I can’t make no b***h famous (Nah)
City Girls ain’t changing
But s**t, how could you blame me? (Blame me)
Bein’ me made me famous
T*****s sittin’, no sports bra (Yeah)
F**k a n***a in a sports car (Skrrt)
Spike his drink at a sports bar
Y’all hoes make me sick
Always cuffin’ tricks
Calling phones, talkin’ slick
Lil’ b***h, who taught you?
Mama should abort you
If you in my view, I would’ve pulled up and fought you
But I’m way up, you b*****s too low
New a*s, new teeth, b***h, check out the glow (Period)

[Yung Miami]
B***h, don’t make put my wig in a rubber band (Band)
Slap a b***h down with the f**k s**t (F**k s**t)
Y’all hoes better turn up

[Part 2: Better]

[JT]
Didn’t think b*****s like us could do better
From Dade County, straight to Coachella
My heart cold, better bring two sweaters
And your best b***h, we’ll take whoever
Gutter b***h, grace the cover of the billboards
Locked up, nominated, BET awards
City Girls, talk that s**t they scream
Real a*s b***h, I ain’t flex for streams
I’m fresh out, n****s comin’ in varieties
I’m fightin’ loss, fightin’ demons and anxiety
I really used to sleep on palettes
Now I’m sittin’ in the condo like it’s a palace

[Yung Miami]
Main b***h locked up, had to hold it down (Down)
With a baby in my stomach at the Rolling Loud (Facts)
Uh, kept you b*****s out my game room (Period)
‘Cause y’all the same fake hoes from The Shade Room (Shade room)
I came from runnin’ outta stores to awards shows (Blessed)
Momma we made it, can’t wait ’til you come
Shot up my Benz, I was seven months (Damn)
Me and baby summer too blessed up (Blessed up)
Now everybody want a verse from us
All the trappers wanna go and cop a purse for us
Bought a bag to the hood when I touchdown (Touchdown)
Did this s**t for Dade County’, yeah we up now

[JT]
Man, don’t make me put this wig in a rubber band again (Wig in a rubber band again)
Still the same, ain’t changed, just changed where I live (Changed where I live)

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