Talkin’ sh*t lyrics

[Verse 1: Dalima]
Yo, Dalima in the club with that good aroma
Yellin at that chick that got sh*t I wanna
Know and that I really could if I wanna
But I'd rather get a drink than pour it on her, ha
Cuz I'm known for that, f*cked up drunk off koniak
Got narcotic won't roll the sacks up in the back
Where the pack of security at, so, on the real I'm used to this
Throw your hands up oh deucin this
Brand new trucks all blue and this
Without a doubt and I doubt yall used to this
Uh so don't be acting scared cuz we just love to stay in pairs
Talk talk like we don't care we'll f*ck your hoes and pull they hair
But the n*gga for real dubbed out with a doubt like half a pill
You n*ggas be saving them hoes thats for real, cup taking and trickin all your skrill
When I burst centrifugal, critical individual bust a lyrical eye make her when I be
Enemy mixed of pitiful then send a couple of my gilla n*ggas to get you

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Dalima]
Put game on the track when I rack it up
Got a bad lil b*tch tryna back it up
Tellin me whatever to get me to acting up
But then dalima X'ed out for harrassin us
No, and she actin p*ssed got mad cuz a n*gga done called her b*tch (b*tch!)
Tryna hate cuz she felt her pits then told another chick that I ain't sh*t, so
It don't even matter, you can ask her kaliko is scatter
Tech got a sl*t plus she bad e-nough to make anybody go bananas
Yo, but it don't phase me, what would chick be thinkin that she could play me
Even if you could get me to thinkin maybe, it's all good cuz I've been drinkin baby (No)
This pimp will next her, don't sip it when I grip when I text her
Cop four with the kid from dexter, bottle the lab with a bag protector (eyy)
I'm bringin the heat, young Dalima da gilla fin to aim the piece
You can't talk slit to a can of grease talk sh*t if you want dude we talkin sh*t
[Hook]

[Verse 3: Tech N9ne]
I think I hit her in the parkin lot
A little wild chick in here that can bark a lot (Woof)
Went ballistic when I spark the crotch
Looking for n*ggas like where for art the c*ck
When I went into the barber shop
Then a n*gga knew the rumors are gonna start to pop
Stop, me at the barber shots
What I remember with the kooch she really farts a lot
Then I had to call my n*gga dalima
And he said he was f*cked up and he could barely remember the what?
n*gga said that he could barely remember the gut
Then he said he couldn't even remember the nut
So I step in the club stern, no sh*t real quick a n*gga shrug burn
And said when will you sl*ts learn, that every one of my b*tches they got rug burn
Groupie b*tch steady runnin your mouth, caddy maddy gimme the gat
And now we gunnin your mouth, run in your house 'cause you was sayin something about
Tecca Nina hittin vageena leavin c*m on the couch
Don't make me have to go and summon the grouch
Put you where nobody will come when you shout (Hey!)
You better go and try to come a new route
Or lay in front of me what you tell me who out, b*tch!