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jt – no bars (acapella) lyrics

[intro]
(i got brizzy on the beat, he go crazy)
(what up noc)
what you workin’ with?
yeah, what you workin’ with?
uh, what you workin’ with?
(show a real b+tch) what you workin’ with

[verse 1]
pay for this p+ssy, n+gga (yeah), get yo’ bands up
oh, you ain’t trickin’, n+gga? i’ma hit yo’ mans up (the f+ck)
cold+ass c+cky b+tch, fur in the summertime (brr)
he gon’ keep the bills paid ’cause he know a b+tch fine
b+tches always in my business, “jt, what you really do?” (what?)
i be at home playin’ fetch by a swimmin’ pool (bing)
i’m a real big dog, b+tch, you a scr+ppy+doo
doin’ all that wifey sh+t knowin’ he don’t f+ck with you
poster girl p+ssy, in yo’ n+gga dreams
i’ma hold a semi, bust whoever in between (bop)
gangster b+tch, jt, medellín
haven’t heard from the opps, yeah, they ain’t said a thing (shh)
i’ll be d+mned, n+gga, you know who i am, n+gga (huh)
long way from crackin’ cars and pullin’ scams, n+gga (yeah)
b+tches on my d+ck, pretty like a transgender (ow)
sit this p+ssy on his chin in a chinchilla
fifty flows up
can’t hop out my coupe unless i lift the doors up (ayy)
told my n+gga twin turbo, v8 the motor (skrrt)
self esteem drop every time i show up, yeah
wrist doin’ eighty in a thirty+five (ice, ayy)
shut marni down for some furry slides (sloppy)
look him in his eyes and tell him dirty lies (huh)
cop me chanel, n+gga, thirty times
the price on this kelly say i’m h+lla paid (yeah)
crocodile birkin from the everglades (yeah)
and i ain’t gotta do a motherf+ckin’ thing
i ain’t gotta do a motherf+ckin’ thing, b+tch (period)
[bridge]
told y’all hoes i don’t work jobs
i am a motherf+ckin’ job
b+tches always in my motherf+ckin’ business
worried ’bout what the f+ck i got goin’ on, ho
hahahaha, it’s city girl sh+t (ho)
even when you think it ain’t city girl sh+t
(i’m a city girl, b+tch)

[verse 2]
second verse to you hatin’+ass hoes (tired+ass)
who get mad every time i strike a pose (d+mn)
i’m rick’d down from my head to my toes (yep)
hood b+tch, dressed like a weirdo (huh)
run away, now i’m steppin’ in some runway
b+tch, you can’t f+ck with my on yo’ birthday (never)
free my real b+tches, corrlink and j+pay (free my b+tches)
you gon’ be home, f+ck what the judge say
i’m low+key, b+tches f+ck with my anxiety
i’m prayed up, and i’m waitin’ on my rivalry
i’m the hype, nah, y’all ain’t gotta hype me
i’m that b+tch, give a f+ck who don’t like me
it’s grind time, no flossin’ (let’s get it)
pulled out the truck and put the porsche in
these b+tches tired, they exhausted (tired+ass hoes)
got b+tches tannin’ for this dark skin
b+tch, i’m really from the trenches
where it’s shots, i ain’t talkin’ ’bout syringes (bop, bop, bow)
yeah, i’m really from them trenches
pretty+ass lips make these b+tches cop syringes, mwah
no bars

- jt lyrics

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