City Girls - No Bars Lyrics

(I got Brizzy on the beat, he go crazy)
(What up Noc?)
What you workin' with?
Yeah, what you workin' with?
Uh, what you workin' with? (Show a real bitch)
Uh, what you workin' with?

Pay for this pussy, nigga (yeah), get yo' bands up
Oh, you ain't trickin', nigga, I'ma hit yo' mans up (the f*ck)
Cold-ass cocky bitch, fur in the summertime (brr)
He gon' keep the bills paid 'cause he know a bitch fine
Bitches 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, bitch, you a Scrappy-Doo
Doin' all that wifey shit knowin' he don't f*ck with you
Poster girl pussy, in yo' nigga dreams
I'ma hold a semi, bust whoever in between (bop)
Gangster bitch, JT, Medellín
Haven't heard from the opps, yeah, they ain't said a thing (shh)
I'll be damned, nigga, you know who I am, nigga (huh)
Long way from crackin' cards and pullin' scams, nigga (yeah)
Bitches on my dick, pretty like a transgender (ow)
Sit this pussy on his chin in a chinchilla
Fifty floors up, can't hop out my coupe unless I lift the doors up (ayy)
Told my nigga twin turbo, V8 the motor (skrrt)
Self esteems drop every time I show up
Yeah, wrist doin' eighty in a thirty-five (ice, ice)
Shut Marni down for some furry slides (sloppy)
Look him in his eyes and tell him dirty lies (huh)
Cop me Chanel, nigga, thirty times
The price on this Kelly say I'm hella 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, bitch (period)

Told y'all hoes I don't work jobs
I am a motherf*ckin' job
Bitches always in my motherf*ckin' business
Worried about what the f*ck I got goin' on, ho
It's City Girl shit (ho)
Even when you think it ain't City Girl shit
I'm a City Girl, bitch

Second verse to you hatin' ass hoes (tired ass)
Who get mad every time I strike a pose (damn)
I'm Rick'd down from my head to my toes (yup)
Hood bitch, dressed like a weirdo (huh)
Run away, now I'm steppin' in some runway
Bitch, you can't f*ck with my on yo' birthday (never)
Free my real bitches, Corrlink and J-Pay (free my bitches)
You gon' be home, f*ck what the judge say
I'm low-key, bitches 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 bitch, 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 bitches tired, they exhausted (tired ass hoes)
Got bitches tannin' for this dark skin
Bitch, I'm really from the trenches
Where it's shots, I ain't talkin' 'bout syringes (baow, baow, baow)
Yeah, I'm really from them trenches
Pretty-ass lips make these bitches cop syringes, mwah
No bars