No Lie lyrics

by

Trina


[Verse 1]
Frail faces showing signs of rejection, you broads stressin
I guess I'm still Da Baddest yea that's what I'm guessin (uh)
Pineapple Ciroc a double shot of white
I got a bag full of money that will change up ya life
Fort Knox in the basement, gold bars forever
Lyrics turn to bars they'll remember me forever (yeah)
Short change is what I call them broads
I got acres in my crib, book these shows on my lawn
Red Eye flights, Miami here I come
I only fornicate with bread cause that money make me c*m
See that villa out in Cali, mansion on the mountain
I slide this pus*y on him call it slidin down the mountain (uh)
pus*y whipped but all I see is the crown, stiletto Louboutins, Hermes gown
You bum b*tches don't make a sound cause when my flight touch ground I shut yo whole city down
You hoes wanted to rap, I wanted to shop
So I sat in the trap and I cooked up the blocks
Made blocks squares, now I'm pushin a yacht
To mansion with spiral stairs, to a Palm Beach out in Laud (yeah)
(Huh) I gotta whole lotta everything, never married but a whole lotta wedding rings
From rappers and ball players that smelt the g-string
Groupie n*ggas who I turned household names
Street b*tch and I been bout money
If I had to be honest I don't need this rap money
Cause the pus*y gone sell more than rap show money
f*ck I need a pimp for CEOing my money (preach)
(Yeah) and you a rap b*tch dummy, and a lil di*k n*gga can't do nothing for me
And I still don't know nann b*tch who can come for me
These bum ass b*tches Kevin Hart mad funny
[Hook x10]
No Lie!

[Verse 2]
I'm the sh*t don't push me I get ruthless
Stashed burner on deck where the coupe is
I ain't hard to find, you hoes can come and meet me
I am always in the press I am "Hip-Hop Weekly"
(Mid-Mid) Middle finger blowing smoke to the Paps
A couple mill you'll get a photo of my crotch
No panties, no sweat and it's wet
Me and you no phones f*cking on a closed set

[Hook x9]
No Lie!
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