No Bars (Acapella) lyrics

[Intro]
(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 b*tch) What you workin' with

[Verse 1]
Pay for this pus*y, 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 Scrappy-Doo
Doin' all that wifey sh*t knowin' he don't f*ck with you
Poster girl pus*y, 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 damned, 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 di*k, pretty like a transgender (Ow)
Sit this pus*y on his chin in a chinchilla
Fifty flows up
Can't hop out my coupe unless I lift the 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 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, b*tch (Period)
[Bridge]
Told y'all hoes I don't work jobs
I am a motherf*ckin' job
b*tches always in my motherf*ckin' business
Worried 'bout what the f*ck I got goin' on, ho
Hahahaha, it's City Girl sh*t (Ho)
Even when you think it ain't City Girl sh*t
(I'm a City Girl, b*tch)

[Verse 2]
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 (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