Released: November 7, 2010
Songwriter: Tyga
Producer: Gutta Beats
Bitch I'm the shit, B-Bitch I'm the shit
Bitch I'm the shit, B-Bitch I'm the shit
Bitch I'm the shit, B-Bitch I'm the shit
Repeat it to yo' bitch, Tell yo' bitch I'm the shit
I'm so dis-disrespectful
Ask them bitches that you next to
Prolly hit it if I met you
I don't remember none of yall names
This ain't legal in yo' state
This that fire arm, that cherry balm
I light in yo' face
Mr. Edison, I put it on
That jewelry in my safe, now yo' vison gone,my bad my dawg
I'm sippin' on that case, Michael Kohrs on my face, so watch yo' step nigga
What, you deaf nigga ?
Don't you ever greet me with yo' fuckin' left nigga
All, all tinted up
I can spot you way quicker
I'm in the fashion district
Polo, fuck that Hilfiger
Yeah
Maybe you some bullshit
And I talk that real shit
I'm bout' to hit that kill switch
And burn this bitch like chili
I'm ill, and it's so evident
I just threw my evidence
In the crowd, I don't give a shit
Too many people just got them tips
I'm hoggin
Slim, skinny nigga doe, ballin'
Pay cash for the cashmere, Ralph Lauren, Carlton
Your just a square in the office
Arlis, I'mma need a agent I'm spalding
Bi-Big donkey butt
She could be my target
I pinned the tail, I did it well, well done, so applaud me
This beat got me joggin'
Easy for a caveman
I'm inline, you talkin'
Cooler than my Ray-Bans
Darker shades, rain man
Get the cash, rain man
Killa' J's, Space Jam
The muthafuckin' Son of Sam
Pull up in that all white ice box
Hottest out the sweat shop
Pull a bear, mink out
Nigga I'm the muthafuckin' truth
You ain't't notice what I do
You don't do this how I do
I be rollin', 3x2
That's that BM-Dub 6 Coupe
Yeah I got that photoproof
Photobooth, no photoshop
Red beans, I'm super hot
Wait till my album drops
Nigga
Bitch I'm the shit, B-Bitch I'm the shit
Bitch I'm the shit, B-Bitch I'm the shit
Repeat it to yo' bitch, Tell yo' bitch I'm the shit
I'm so dis-disrespectful
Ask them bitches that you next to
Prolly hit it if I met you
I don't remember none of yall names
This ain't legal in yo' state
This that fire arm, that cherry balm
I light in yo' face
Mr. Edison, I put it on
That jewelry in my safe, now yo' vison gone,my bad my dawg
I'm sippin' on that case, Michael Kohrs on my face, so watch yo' step nigga
What, you deaf nigga ?
Don't you ever greet me with yo' fuckin' left nigga
All, all tinted up
I can spot you way quicker
I'm in the fashion district
Polo, fuck that Hilfiger
Yeah
Maybe you some bullshit
And I talk that real shit
I'm bout' to hit that kill switch
And burn this bitch like chili
I'm ill, and it's so evident
I just threw my evidence
In the crowd, I don't give a shit
Too many people just got them tips
I'm hoggin
Slim, skinny nigga doe, ballin'
Pay cash for the cashmere, Ralph Lauren, Carlton
Your just a square in the office
Arlis, I'mma need a agent I'm spalding
Bi-Big donkey butt
She could be my target
I pinned the tail, I did it well, well done, so applaud me
This beat got me joggin'
Easy for a caveman
I'm inline, you talkin'
Cooler than my Ray-Bans
Darker shades, rain man
Get the cash, rain man
Killa' J's, Space Jam
The muthafuckin' Son of Sam
Pull up in that all white ice box
Hottest out the sweat shop
Pull a bear, mink out
Nigga I'm the muthafuckin' truth
You ain't't notice what I do
You don't do this how I do
I be rollin', 3x2
That's that BM-Dub 6 Coupe
Yeah I got that photoproof
Photobooth, no photoshop
Red beans, I'm super hot
Wait till my album drops
Nigga