ben folds - bitches ain't shit lyrics
b-tches ain’t sh-t
b-tches ain’t sh-t
b-tches ain’t sh-t but hos and tricks
lick on these nuts and suck the d-ck
just get the f-ck out after you’re done
and i hops in my ride to make a quick run
i used to know a b-tch named eric wright
we used to roll around and f-ck the hos at night
tighter than a motherf-cking gangsta beats
and we was ballin’ on the motherf-cking compton streets
peep that sh-t, got deep and it was on
number one song after number one song
long as my motherf-cking pockets was fat
i didn’t give a f-ck where the b-tch was at
but she was hanging with a white b-tch doing the sh-t she do
suckin’ on his d-ck just to get a buck or two
and the ends that she got meant nothing
and now she’s suing ’cause the sh-t she be doing ain’t sh-t
(b-tches can’t hang with the streets)
she found herself short
(now she’s takin’ me to court)
that’s real conversation for your -ss
i once had a b-tch named mandy may
i used to be up in them guts, like, every day
the p-ssy was the bomb, had a n-gg-r on sprung
i was in love like a motherf-cker lickin’ the proton
the homies used to tell me that she was no good
but i’m the maniac in black, mr. snoop eastwood
so i figure n-gg-r wouldn’t trip with mine
guess what, got gaffled by one time
i’m back in the motherf-cking county jail
six months on my chest, now it’s time to bail
i gets released on a hot, sunny day
my n-gg-r d.o.c. and my homey dr. dre
scooped in a coupe, snoop, we got the news
your girl was trickin’ while you was draped in the county blues
ain’t been out a second, and already i got to do
some motherf-cking chin checkin’
move up the block as we groove down the block
see my girl’s house, dre, p-ss the glock
kick in the door, and i look on the floor
it’s my little cousin daz, and he’s f-ckin’ my ho
i unc-cked my sh-t
i’m heartbroke, but i’m still locked
spoken: man, f-ck that b-tch
3, 4
b-tches ain’t sh-t but hos and tricks
lick on these nuts and suck the d-ck
gets the f-ck out after you’re done
and i hops in my ride to make a quick run
i used to know a b-tch named eric wright
we used to roll around and f-ck the hos at night
tighter than a motherf-cking gangsta beats
and we was ballin’ on the motherf-cking compton streets
peep that sh-t, got deep and it was on
number one song after number one song
long as my motherf-cking pockets was fat
i didn’t give a f-ck where the b-tch was at
but she was hanging with a white b-tch doing the sh-t she do
suckin’ on his d-ck just to get a buck or two
and the ends that she got meant nothing
and now she’s suing ’cause the sh-t she be doing ain’t sh-t
(b-tches can’t hang with the streets)
she found herself short
(now she’s takin’ me to court)
that’s some real conversation for your -ss
(b-tches can’t hang with the streets
b-tches can’t hang with the streets
b-tches can’t hang with the streets
b-tches can’t hang with the streets
b-tches can’t hang with the streets
b-tches can’t hang with the streets
b-tches can’t hang with the streets
b-tches can’t hang with the streets)
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