rico nasty – turn it up lyrics
[verse 1]
turn it up, never pay attention to a hatin’ ass hoe
don’t be on sh+t, but i bet they share each others clothes
bet my weed smell like p+ss, inhale that i exhale out my nose
i got these hoes so mad
like they off the coke, i got them blown
i step on the stage, put on a show (woah+woah+woah)
speak out on my name, go toe to toe (let’s go)
he ain’t ever met a b+tch like me, i know
you know we easy breezy (d+mn)
diamonds vv (yеah), creepy (ooh)
heebie+jeebies (woah), in the jeep (woah)
wе jeepers+creepers (huh)
think she bad (huh), but b+tch, i’m eatin’
[chorus]
i just put the cash in a stash
why you lookin’ on my page and you ain’t even wash ya ass?
i got a cheque, now i don’t know how to act (d+mn)
in my new crib playin’ with my son in the grass (woah, hoe)
pop designer tags (yeah), lookin’ sad (ayy)
in the house mad (hahaha), b+tch, go and get a bag
puff, puff, pass, make a hundred on a bag though, man
these hoes be frontin’ like they’re d+mn lace
[verse 2]
put a b+tch to sleep just for pillow talking (sleep)
shawty ass fat, see it through the joggers (look)
i’m the realest out, if we’re being honest (uh+huh)
don’t call me paranoid ’cause i’m just used to being conscious
i’ma be the one that still got it, i’m not the one that lost it
she gon’ pop a perc like lil gotit and then she get to poppin’
soon as we walk in the party, you feel the speakers knockin’
he said that i was ugly, but now he eye+lockin’
she said that she ain’t like me, now the b+tch head boppin’
i’ve been on her mind all day, i got her head throbbin’
i know that they gon’ ride my wave, i keep the boat rockin’
i told my plug that i can’t choose, just bring me all the options
my money blue, just like a zoo, it fill up both pockets (yeah)
you and yo’ boyfriend h+lla lame, ya’ll need to both stop it
and if a hoe watchin’
she see this fit cost more than her whole closet (d+mn)
[chorus]
i just put the cash in a stash
why you lookin’ on my page and you ain’t even wash ya ass?
i got a cheque now i don’t know how to act (d+mn)
in my new crib playin’ with my son in the grass (woah, hoe)
pop designer tags (yeah), lookin’ sad (ayy)
in the house mad (hahaha), b+tch, go and get a bag
puff, puff, pass, make a hundred on a bag though, man
these hoes be frontin’ like they’re d+mn lace
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