Released: January 14, 2012
Songwriter: Willie B ScHoolboy Q
Producer: Willie B
[Intro]
Nigga ain't got no concept to this shit, so I was just on some crazy shit, like..
[Chorus]
(Yeah!) Bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double D's, please, be the Birkin bag
Designer heels, Hermes pants, how you fit in that?
(Yeah, you feel me, like..?)
(Yeah!) Look at me—Ray Bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different coloured pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag
[Verse 1]
Okay, I'm energized, say my tunes turn her on
This ain't Enterprise, but kick it boo, let's bring it home
I'm hella high, back to back, I smoke alone
Unless my nigga Soul around, fuck it cuz, let's blow a zone
Now carry on assume you niggas need a loan
Quit it with the texting cuh and go and make a song
My foreign ho, bitch call me a maricón
Always rocking shit I never seen or I never known
Name grown overseas fitter
Sergio Tacchini shirt, real creeper slippers
YSL see the logo on my zipper
Broad serving me she going down, yeah I had to tip her
A-ten-hut
[Chorus]
(Yeah!) Bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double D's, please, be the Birkin bag
Designer heels, Hermes pants, how you fit in that?
(Yeah, you feel me, like..?)
(Yeah!) Look at me—Ray Bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different coloured pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag
[Verse 2]
HiiiPower bitch, let 'em know the players here
I said HiiiPower bitch, give me gangster of the year
This for my HOG's on Figg and homies on the tier
Always keep this shit groovy nigga and I ain't shed a tear
Black gat, black whip no tags on it
Face tats cuz for sure gon' throw the mask on it
Burner on my lap nigga, mothafuck the cops
DEA and all the feds gon' be my murder plot
Money cash hoes by the dozen
Never started cracking, bitches started cooking onions
Now my weed habit always funded
And these college broads be fucking do whatever have 'em flunking
A-ten-hut
[Chorus]
(Yeah!) Bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double D's, please, be the Birkin bag
Designer heels, Hermes pants, how you fit in that?
(Yeah, you feel me, like..?)
(Yeah!) Look at me—Ray Bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different coloured pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag
[Verse 3]
Bitch say she like my songs, so I do her
She love a street nigga that done jumped up out the cooler
Uh, young-ass entrepreneur
In the 40/40 club tripping like I ain't from Hoover
No bottles, no tables, I just wanna fuck you
You, you and you, yeah, they know what's up
Only one at a time, baby, slow it down
Just wait up in the front and listen to the sounds
She doin all the things you say she say do
Swallow evidence, her boyfriend never had a clue
Sticking to the script like mothafuckin' glue
Got your birdie on my wood like the bitches from the Lou
A-ten-hut
[Chorus]
(Yeah!) Bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double D's, please, be the Birkin bag
Designer heels, Hermes pants, how you fit in that?
(Yeah, you feel me, like..?)
(Yeah!) Look at me—Ray Bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different coloured pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag
Nigga ain't got no concept to this shit, so I was just on some crazy shit, like..
[Chorus]
(Yeah!) Bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double D's, please, be the Birkin bag
Designer heels, Hermes pants, how you fit in that?
(Yeah, you feel me, like..?)
(Yeah!) Look at me—Ray Bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different coloured pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag
[Verse 1]
Okay, I'm energized, say my tunes turn her on
This ain't Enterprise, but kick it boo, let's bring it home
I'm hella high, back to back, I smoke alone
Unless my nigga Soul around, fuck it cuz, let's blow a zone
Now carry on assume you niggas need a loan
Quit it with the texting cuh and go and make a song
My foreign ho, bitch call me a maricón
Always rocking shit I never seen or I never known
Name grown overseas fitter
Sergio Tacchini shirt, real creeper slippers
YSL see the logo on my zipper
Broad serving me she going down, yeah I had to tip her
A-ten-hut
[Chorus]
(Yeah!) Bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double D's, please, be the Birkin bag
Designer heels, Hermes pants, how you fit in that?
(Yeah, you feel me, like..?)
(Yeah!) Look at me—Ray Bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different coloured pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag
[Verse 2]
HiiiPower bitch, let 'em know the players here
I said HiiiPower bitch, give me gangster of the year
This for my HOG's on Figg and homies on the tier
Always keep this shit groovy nigga and I ain't shed a tear
Black gat, black whip no tags on it
Face tats cuz for sure gon' throw the mask on it
Burner on my lap nigga, mothafuck the cops
DEA and all the feds gon' be my murder plot
Money cash hoes by the dozen
Never started cracking, bitches started cooking onions
Now my weed habit always funded
And these college broads be fucking do whatever have 'em flunking
A-ten-hut
[Chorus]
(Yeah!) Bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double D's, please, be the Birkin bag
Designer heels, Hermes pants, how you fit in that?
(Yeah, you feel me, like..?)
(Yeah!) Look at me—Ray Bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different coloured pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag
[Verse 3]
Bitch say she like my songs, so I do her
She love a street nigga that done jumped up out the cooler
Uh, young-ass entrepreneur
In the 40/40 club tripping like I ain't from Hoover
No bottles, no tables, I just wanna fuck you
You, you and you, yeah, they know what's up
Only one at a time, baby, slow it down
Just wait up in the front and listen to the sounds
She doin all the things you say she say do
Swallow evidence, her boyfriend never had a clue
Sticking to the script like mothafuckin' glue
Got your birdie on my wood like the bitches from the Lou
A-ten-hut
[Chorus]
(Yeah!) Bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double D's, please, be the Birkin bag
Designer heels, Hermes pants, how you fit in that?
(Yeah, you feel me, like..?)
(Yeah!) Look at me—Ray Bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different coloured pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag
more tracks from the album
From the album
- Habits & Contradictions (2012)
ScHoolboy Q popular songs
- Collard Greens
- Studio
- Hands on the Wheel
- Blessed
- Man of tHe Year
- THat Part
- THat Part (Black Hippy Remix)
- Break the Bank
- WHat THey Want
- Gangsta
- Hell of a Night
- THere He Go
- Numb Numb Juice
- Yay Yay
- The Purge
- Prescription / Oxymoron
- JoHn Muir
- By Any Means
- Tookie Knows II
- Druggys wit Hoes Again
- Hoover Street
- Sacrilegious
- Overtime
- Dope Dealer