Denna b*tch lyrics

[Chorus: Juicy J]
I hear em talking, money make a hater madder than a b*tch
Got my check up, now you know I get more cash than a b*tch
Got a pocket full of paper and a bad yellow b*tch
Ass fatter than a b*tch
My car faster than a b*tch
What you saying, make em madder than a b*tch
What you saying, get more cash than a b*tch
What you saying, got a bad yellow b*tch
Ass fatter than a b*tch, my car go faster than a b*tch

[Verse 1: Juicy J]
A hunnid billion dollars, that's the conversation
n*gga I got more whips than a dominatrix
Pretty b*tch jump on my di*k, lemme drive ya crazy
And you heard that my paper thicker than the yellow pages
Press that button lose the top, make it disappear
Its so lonely at the top, but I love it here
Pass that cream b*tch I'm higher than Apollo 13
On that purple martini and a ounce of blue dream
So much money, make the counter blow a fuse
Live in the fast lane and f*ck all the rules
I'm living on the edge, f*ck a hater, f*ck the feds
If I buy more ice, I might need to buy a sled

[Chorus: Juicy J]
I hear em talking, money make a hater madder than a b*tch
Got my check up, now you know I get more cash than a b*tch
Got a pocket full of paper and a bad yellow b*tch
Ass fatter than a b*tch
My car faster than a b*tch
What you saying, make em madder than a b*tch
What you saying, get more cash than a b*tch
What you saying, got a bad yellow b*tch
Ass fatter than a b*tch, my car go faster than a b*tch
[Verse 2: Project Pat]
Smoking loud, drinking hen, man I'm higher than a b*tch
di*k harder than a b*tch, wanna stick it in a b*tch
Ferragamo louis sh*t, all designer in this b*tch
I got gold on my teeth and neck, I'm shining as a b*tch
b*tch look and see this sh*t, n*ggas mad than a b*tch
Forty c*cked, in the parking lot, get shot up than a b*tch
I ain't tripping 'bout you man, I'm on dead presidents
All my n*ggas killas and ain't scared of the penitent-ions
Money always make a broke n*gga mad, make him envy
Never bowing down to a b*tch, it ain't in me
Lamborghini cost a ticket and I'm tryna ride that b*tch
Pat your running up the check, we ain't tryna hit that sh*t

[Spoken Interlude: Pimp C]
You wanna say something about the pimp?
Gimme his address b*tch I'ma come to his house
If they can feel that, then they can feel what's really going on down here right now mane
I'm glad we got an outlet where we can air these b*tch ass n*ggas out
Know what I'm talking about?

[Verse 3: Juicy J]
I can go broke any minute, still making four million in an hour
Closing deals with the cartel on my speakerphone in the shower
My b*tch want that sour
You n*ggas is cowards, get the f*ck off of my lawn
I'm cutting the grass with them choppas
Bullets is sounding like do-do-do-do hitting n*ggas and flowers
I don't fly jets, I buy jets
I'm from the low rise, high ground, projects
f*ck you and your street cash, little ass pub check
You sign n*ggas, I sign n*ggas, I buy the label
I'm in the Soho House in the library, eating sushi with Cung Le
Getting throwed from your politician, this ho wanna elect me
Still a hood n*gga tryna f*ck everything, life in the villa, getting zarilla, n*gga
Think of my scrilla, keeping my wolves on deck like Michael on Thrilla