b*tches lyrics

[Chorus: Chris Brown]
I don't need no n*ggas in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, ah
I don't need no n*ggas in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, ah (Hahaha, look)

[Verse 1: Chris Brown]
Higher than the moon, n*gga, what up?
I hear 'em wolfin', a n*gga need to shut up
While I'm in the pus*y, face down and the butt up
You ain't sh*t to her, and me, I'm just a f*ck up
f*ck a handshake, n*gga, we ain't brothers
On that Westside where they reppin' for they colors
Talkin' big sh*t 'cause my di*k'll make you stutter
All up in your face like it's butter, nutter
Right now, make her scream my name and pipe her right down
Nasty on the di*k, b*tch, give a n*gga a wipe down
Twenty-four inches, I'm rollin' on chrome, my n*ggas are smokin' on that loud
b*tches try to flaunt, huh, I'ma blow they back out
I ain't thinkin' 'bout a n*gga, walk past you
b*tch stole my blunt and said she like my tattoos
I'm that dude, I slang wood, that bamboo
But when she drop it on the di*k, she a damn fool

[Chorus: Chris Brown]
I don't need no n*ggas in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, ah
I don't need no n*ggas in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, ah
All these b*tches, I don't wanna see no n*ggas
All these b*tches, I don't wanna see no n*ggas
Really, really though, all these b*tches, I don't want no n*ggas
'Cause the real n*ggas posted up already with us (Huh, yeah)
[Verse 2: Chris Brown]
This a habit, in the club, I do magic
f*ckin' with these ratchets, no purses, they got baskets
It's a handout, these b*tches high fiendin', guess they addicts
And I ask them, "Are you in like Patrick?"
Playin' with the pus*y like it's Madden, fire like a dragon
If one say she like me, then they all bandwagon
Cheerleadin' ass hoes, but they pretty like a pageant
She said she'd let me cut, I got to stab it, for real though

[Chorus: Chris Brown]
I don't need no n*ggas in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, ah
I don't need no n*ggas in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, ah
All these b*tches, I don't wanna see no n*ggas
All these b*tches, I don't wanna see no n*ggas
Really, really though, all these b*tches, I don't want no n*ggas
'Cause the real n*ggas posted up already with us

[Verse 3: Tyga]
Ha! Audemars, big b*tch, big tipper
Supperclub, twenty thousand for the liquor
See the b*tch I'm with, prolly never get her
No comp' bottles, they for broke n*ggas
Been the corner posted up with the dome giver
Money flowin' like wet pus*y, that's a long river
So you got your b*tch on lock? I slim jim her
It's that time of the month, f*cktember
All my n*ggas got a bottle with a blunt lit up
Throw your cup up, throw your set up
High in this b*tch 'til the club lights lit up
Leave with her, big spender, a b*tch shut up, ha!
T-Killuminati all through your body
She blow me like a twelve gauge shotty, you feel me?
Pull up in the 'Rari, the f*ckin' life of the party
I'm gettin' hoes regardless, before this rap sh*t, I'm honest
[Chorus: Chris Brown, Tyga]
I don't need no n*ggas in my section (Ha)
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, ah (Yeah)
I don't need no n*ggas in my section
All b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, all b*tches, ah
All these b*tches, I don't wanna see no n*ggas
All these b*tches, I don't wanna see no n*ggas
Really, really though, all these b*tches, I don't want no n*ggas
'Cause the real n*ggas posted up already with us