Da Bichez lyrics

by

Guru


[Chorus]
I'm not talking 'bout the queens, but (What?), the b*tches
Not the sisters, but (What?), the b*tches
Not the young ladies, but (What?), the b*tches
The b*tches, the b*tches, the b*tches (b*tch!)

[Verse 1]
Now a queen's a queen and a stunt is a stunt
You can tell who's who by the things they want
Most chicks want minks, diamonds, a Benz
Spend up all your ends, probably f*ck your friends
High-post attitudes, real rude with fat asses
Think that the pus*y is made out of gold
Try to control you by slidin' up and down on the wood
They be givin' up sex for goods
Dealin' with b*tches is the same old song
They only want you 'til someone richer comes along
Don't get me wrong, strong black women
I know who's who so due the respect I'm givin'
While queens stand by you, and stick around
b*tches suck you dry and push you down
So it's my duty to address
This vampires givin' the black man stress
Recognize what's real and not material
Or burn in hell, chasin' Polo and Guess, dumb b*tches
[Chorus]
(b*tch! b*tch!)
I'm not talking 'bout the queens, but (What?), the b*tches
Not the sisters, but (What?), the b*tches
Not the young ladies, but (What?), the b*tches
The b*tches, the b*tches, the b*tches (b*tch!)

[Verse 2]
My man had a chick an' thought she was finger-lickin'
I knew her style, that's why I'm vegetarian
I told her she was out to get what she could get
He didn't believe me, so she bagged him up in the end
Made the pus*y do tricks, then she sucked his di*k
He got caught up in the grip, now he's payin' the rent
Black widow, she even killed dead presidents
That he'd owe; shouldn't have got one red cent
I'd body slam her, but I'm not a misogynist
When I see a brother gettin' nabbed it makes me p*ssed
Cosmetic enchantress scandalous temptress
The way my man went out you'd think she was a pimpstress
b*tches come my way, I make 'em hop 'cause I'm hip to the game
I'm not a slave so I don't get pus*y-whipped
Bear in mind you'll lose em' to end material riches
f*ckin' around with those b*tches

[Chorus]
(b*tch! b*tch!)
I'm not talking 'bout the queens, but (What?), the b*tches
Not the sisters, but (What?), the b*tches
Not the young ladies, but (What?), the b*tches
The b*tches, the b*tches (b*tch!)
[Verse 3]
Since I've been club-hoppin' you've been ho-hoppin'
You've seen them pop up in every spot that I'm in
Any n*gga with a record could get your butt naked
So your man got a Lex', you live in the projects
Tryin' a flex but you ain't the smartest
Your ass ain't the fattest, f*ck around, play yourself and get dissed
I know your status, you can't touch my status
Deep down you want this, dyin' a be famous
But you can't attain this, ooppin' that coochie for Gucci
b*tches like you ain't sh*t to me
And don't talk about R-E-S-P-E-C-T
'Cause I treat my black sisters like royalty
Now go in peace, don't make me get raw
And treat you like the harlot that you are
Filthy b*tches

[Chorus]
(b*tch! b*tch!)
I'm not talking 'bout the queens, but (What?), the b*tches
Not the sisters, but (What?), the b*tches
Not the young ladies, but (What?), the b*tches
The b*tches, the b*tches, the b*tches (b*tch!)
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