Only lyrics

by

Skylar Grey


[Verse 1: Nicki Minaj]
Yo, I never f*cked Wayne, I never f*cked Drake
On my life, man, f*ck's sake
If I did, I'd ménage with 'em
And let 'em eat my ass like a cupcake
My man full, he just ate
I don't duck nobody but tape
Yeah, that was a setup
For a punchline on duct tape
Wo-wo-wo-worried 'bout if my butt fake
Wo-worried 'bout y'all n*ggas, us straight
Th-These girls are my sons
Jo-Jon & Kate Plus Eight
When I walk in, zip up straight
I don't give a f*ck if I was late
Dinner with my man on a G5
Is my idea of a update
Hut-hut one, hut-hut two
Big titties, big butt too
Fu-f*ck with them real n*ggas
Who don't tell n*ggas what they up to
Had to show b*tches where the top is
Ri-Ring finger where the rock is
The-These hoes couldn't test me
Even if their name was Pop Quiz
Bad b*tches who I f*ck with
Ma-Ma-Mad b*tches we don't f*ck with
I don't f*ck with them chickens
Unless they last name is Cutlet
Let it soak in
Like seasoning
And tell them b*tches blow me
Lance Stephenson
[Chorus: Chris Brown & Drake]
Raise every bottle and cup in the sky
Sparks in the air like the Fourth of July
Nothin' but bad b*tches in here tonight
Oh, if you lame and you know it, be quiet
Nothin' but real n*ggas only, bad b*tches only
Rich n*ggas only, independent b*tches only
Boss n*ggas only, thick b*tches only
I got my real n*ggas here by my side (Yeah), only

[Verse 2: Drake]
I never f*cked Nicki 'cause she got a man
But when that's over, then I'm first in line
And the other day in her Maybach
I thought, "Goddamn, this is the perfect time"
We had just come from that video
You know, L.A. traffic, how the city slow
She was sittin' down on that big butt
But I was still starin' at the titties though
Yeah, low-key or maybe high-key
I been peeped that you like me, you know?
Who the f*ck you really wanna be with besides me?
I mean, it doesn't take much for us to do this sh*t quietly
I mean, she say I'm obsessed with thick women and I agree
Yeah, that's right, I like my girls BBW
Yeah, type that wanna suck you dry and then eat some lunch with you
Yeah, so thick that everybody else in the room is so uncomfortable
Ass on Houston, Texas, but the face look just like Clair Huxtable
Oh! Yeah, you the man in the city when the mayor f*ck with you
The NBA players f*ck with you
The bad-ass b*tches doin' makeup and hair f*ck with you, oh
That's 'cause I believe in somethin', I stand for it
And Nicki, if you ever tryna f*ck
Just give me the heads-up, so I can plan for it
[Chorus: Chris Brown & Drake]
Raise every bottle and cup in the sky (Pinkprint, ayy)
Sparks in the air like the Fourth of July
Nothin' but bad b*tches in here tonight
Oh, if you lame and you know it, be quiet
Nothin' but real n*ggas only, bad b*tches only
Rich n*ggas only, independent b*tches only
Boss n*ggas only, thick b*tches only
I got my real n*ggas here by my side, only

[Verse 3: Lil Wayne]
I never f*cked Nick' and that's f*cked up
If I did f*ck, she'd be f*cked up
Whoever is hittin' ain't hittin' it right
'Cause she act like she need di*k in her life
That's another story, I'm no story-teller
I p*ss greatness, like goldish yellow
All my goons so overzealous
I'm from Hollygrove, the holy Mecca
Calendar say I got money for days
I squirm and I shake, but I'm stuck in my ways
My girlfriend will beat a b*tch up if she wave
They bet' not f*ck with her surfboard, surfboard
My eyes are so bright, I take cover for shade
Don't have my money? Take mothers instead
You got the hiccups, you swallowed the truth
Then I make you burp, boy, treat beef like sirloin
I'm talkin' 'bout runnin' in houses with army guns
So think about your son and daughter rooms
Got two hoes with me, masked up, they got smaller guns
Ain't thinkin' 'bout your son and daughter rooms
This sh*t is crazy, my n*gga
I mean brazy, my n*gga
That money talk, I just rephrase it, my n*gga
Blood gang, take the "B" off behavior, my n*gga
For reals, if you mouth off, I blow your face off
I mean "pop-pop-pop," then I take off
n*gga, now you see me, n*gga, now you don't
Like Jamie Foxx actin' like Ray Charles
Sixteen in a clip, one in the chamber
17 Ward bully with seventeen bullets
My story is how I went from "poor me"
To "please pour me a drink and celebrate with me"
[Chorus: Chris Brown & Lil Wayne]
Raise every bottle and cup in the sky
Sparks in the air like the Fourth of July
Nothin' but bad b*tches in here tonight
Oh, if you lame and you know it, be quiet
Young Mula, baby!
Nothin' but real n*ggas only, bad b*tches only
Rich n*ggas only, independent b*tches only
Boss n*ggas only, thick b*tches only
I got my real n*ggas here by my side, only
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