Talkin’ Bout You lyrics

by

Devin The Dude


Intro:
I like the way this feel
b*tch for real
b*tch I'm talkin' bout you
You know that b*tch a ho
Tap her on the shoulder
Let her know, know what I mean
Keep it real with a b*tch, know what I mean?

Verse 1:
I always knew you was a greazy b*tch
Tried to warn my homie but he didn't believe me b*tch
Its a shame how you had dude trickin his chips
Less than a week later you was on my di*k
Got his nose wide open, not to mention his wallet
Every chance he got he was comin out of pocket
You trippin my n*gga, how you gon let this b*tch hustle you
Wonder why this grown-ass man was so gullible
So stupid, she f*ck with any n*gga on the team
b*tch got a thing for diamond rings and ding-a-lings
On the floor, shopping sprees and fur coats
You pumped her head up now she think she the most
I just beat the pus*y up and get ghost
And I never spend a penny, b*tches supply me with hydro and Henny
I'm just speakin on the thangs you do
Chorus:
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
b*tch I'm talkin bout you (you you you)
And all the thangs you do
Down to bust down every n*gga in my crew
Not my lady, not my baby, and you ain't my boo
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
b*tch I'm talkin bout you (you you you)
And all the rats that you roll with
Gon admit your whole clique on some ho sh*t
And if I wanted I could f*ck them too
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
b*tch I'm talkin bout you

Verse 2:
So can you taste it ho it ain't no game
You gon make a n*gga say yo name
b*tch I'm talkin to you
So can you taste it ho it ain't no game
You gon make a n*gga say yo name
b*tch I'm talkin bout
Keisha, Leisha, April and Alicia
Nothing but them dog-ass hoes and straight skeezers
Type of b*tch to come to your spot and smoke up your reefer
Then wanna give you brain, b*tch drop some change
On this mothaf*ckin doity you puffin on
Put up on my reefer sack or leave it the f*ck alone
You hoes want Patron shots and Grey Goose
Thinking a n*gga gon supply your liquor just cuz you cute
Well goddamn, I am, appalled at y'all frauds
I ain't in it for the drawers, you all on my balls
Don't answer y'all calls
And you wonder why you can't get through
Chorus:
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
b*tch I'm talkin bout you (you you you)
And all the thangs you do
Down to bust down every n*gga in my crew
Not my lady, not my baby, and you ain't my boo
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
b*tch I'm talkin bout you (you you you)
And all the rats that you roll with
Gon admit your whole clique on some ho sh*t
And if I wanted I could f*ck them too
Don't look around like you ain't got no clue
b*tch I'm talkin bout you

Verse 3:
You b*tch n*gga, you trick n*ggas
She playing with your di*k and you payin her rent n*gga
I specialize in this pimpin and breakin these hoes
Charge it all to a b*tch, n*gga thats how it goes
But who knows, I might bump into two hoes thats bout that action
Met em in the lobby, I'm probably gon be smashin
If I can get em to the suite, I'd rather hit the streets
So pat your feet to the street b*tch, mash for rations
I was in the cranberry Chevy with Rosemary
Nymphomaniac from Gary who strip at the Black Cherry
But her momma think she work as a medical secretary
In the day but in the evenin she doin whats necessary
Just to stay up in them Gucci boots, suck a di*k in the coupe
They say I'm hard on these heifers I just tell the truth
Cuz I'm just speaking on the thangs they do
Chorus

Outro:
And you, and you, and you, and you
I see you girl (b*tch)
I see you girl (haha)
I'm off them ragged-ass hoes man
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