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trina – watch the drip lyrics

30 hanging out the ride side
all my choppas ducking, they don’t like guys
getting to the chicken like i’m popeyes
gotta hit the kitchen make the block hot
went jewelery shopping in paris (ooh)
all of my b-tches rock karats (ooh)
these n-gg-s love my appearance (ooh)
i be brushing up on my new [?] (ayy)
i ain’t been getting no sleep, i was on the run from the police
you was on the run in the nose bleeds
you a rat, but you ain’t getting no cheese
i’m cute but i be with the og’s
you ain’t getting the p-ssy, n-gg- proceed
i know all the b-tches that you go see
n-gg- run your money up and smoke weed

drippin on these hoes, i’m dr-drippin on these hoes
i just pulled another four, i’m t-tippin on fo-fours
your b-tch round here with that booger sugar dripping from her nose
i make messes where i step, sauce dripping from my toes (uh)

tell the b-tch hit me up if you need me
she sent a dm, i ain’t read it
ya i’m cool, but i’m kinda conceited
caught a wave and they trying to repeat it
i came in the came with a check on me
i’m the one, lil b-tch, you can bet on it
when my name come up, put some respect on it
bad wrist, bout to drop a patek on it (ooh)
can’t name another b-tch as cold as me
your b-tch high cause i roll the weed
sh-t i drive, came from over seas
my new whip is just for me, ain’t got no other seats
28 inches, i’m pocahontas
28 grams, i’m smokahontas
before i could how to read, i knew how to count it
i got up out the rolls [?]
i think i’m the sh-t and i must be
cause i ain’t met a b-tch that could touch me

i hope b-tches good at math, i got problems for these hoes
i be making b-tches mad, i got drama for these hoes
boy, these hoes ain’t got no cash, i got commas on these hoes
i got f-ck off with your daddy, b-tch i’m mamma to these hoes

you just tryna get some p-ssy, n-gg- sit down and be humble
ain’t not f-cking me for free, what tax bracket is you under?
i want blunts, i want hundreds, i want some bundles and a [?]
i could get that sh-t myself, but i would rather spend his money
i’m a racked up boss b-tch, act tough you off b-tch
you can’t go to war with me, you broke, and that sh-t costs b-tch
i’m a racked up boss b-tch, act tough you off b-tch
you can’t go to war with me, you broke, and that sh-t costs b-tch

tell these b-tches get they’re bread up or get they’re head bust
i be piling up them blue hunnids in the red duffel
all you b-tches like to talk, but you b-tches scared of us
he can’t diss me if he licked me, keep it real i fed n-gg-s
if he try to disrespect me, it’s gon be some dead n-gg-s
ain’t no need to be repeated, you heard what i said n-gg-
ya n-gg- they seen her, riding round with that nina
send your n-gg- to rehab, this p-ssy good and he fiending
trina

- trina lyrics

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