T.N.B. lyrics

[Hook]
Pull up to the club – skatin’ on them dishes
We in ’67 Chevys, they got Daytons on them b*tches
f*ck is goin’ on? Thought that hatin’ sh*t was finished
We don’t take it personal, we just takin’ n*ggas b*tches
Said we takin’ n*ggas’ b*tches, takin’ n*ggas’ b*tches
Takin’ n*ggas’ b*tches, yeah, we takin’ n*ggas’ b*tches
That’s your girl up in my section? Boy, you know the business
Just don’t take it personal, we takin’ everybody’s b*tches
Hundred bottles of Ciroc, drinkin’ like a boss
f*ck what n*ggas think, b*tch, I think I like to floss
f*ck is goin’ on? Thought that hatin’ sh*t was finished
Take some shots, take some pictures
Then let’s take these n*ggas’ b*tches

[Verse 1]
Okay, I’m faded off that motherf*ckin’ Ciroc, buzz
b*tch we in the building like sheetrock, studs
Now she want me to beat that pus*y ‘til it beat-box (what?)
She like my style, so we got ghost while you D-Blockin’, cuz’
Yeah, she pullin’ on my sleeve, tryna get close to me
She got a long, wavy weave and a big ol’ booty
I’m gettin’ all this rap money and my boys flip coke
So don’t be actin’ like you bougie if your boyfriend broke
She said he ain’t f*ckin’ her right, she gon’ eliminate him soon
I ain’t tryna spend the night, I wanna penetrate it soon
You know, infiltrate that womb, drop in them guts like a convertible
We can get up like that n*gga iguodala off that vertical
She tripped over my swag – so you know where she goin’
Put no b*tch over my cash – b*tch, I’m ‘bout my coins
And I ain’t talkin’ rolls of quarters, but I got some dimes
Tell him make my wheels look extra clean,cuz bruh, I gots to shine (hook)
[Verse 2]
Dance, too much booty in the pants
I’ll blow a couple grand, and she threw it like a champ
And she drop it, I’mma get it poppin’, shorties know we rockin’
I got all these b*tches jockin’ like the motorcycle dance
I’m low on my haters, but I’m high on them digits
I give her that sign, then we slide, you know umpire these b*tches
She said he ain’t f*ckin’ her right, she gon’ eliminate him soon
And my shine out of this world, b*tch, I intimidate the moon
I rock Jesus pieces and Coogies – you know, Biggie Smalls
I said “baby, you want some rose?” She said “you know Ricky Ross?”
I said “whoa, my pimpin’ cold – go play in the snow”
‘Cause these white b*tches still roll, OJ in the cold
I hope it’s all good like a field goal when touchdown like a end zone
If that b*tch don’t lick c*ck, make her kick rock like a Flintstone
See, you give me your pebbles, I’ll give you this bam-bam
You booed-up with an amateur, just call me the sandman
Lookin’ at my Rollie, it’s my motherf*ckin’ time
Tell that n*gga clean my wheels and make them motherf*ckers shine (hook)