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z - ro - call my phone lyrics

(feat. slim thug)

[chorus:]
b-tch, you ain’t gotta call my phone
matta fact all you hoes can leave me alone
i just want my money
and now one of you nappy-headed hoes goin get none from me
n-gg-, you ain’t gotta call my phone
matta fact all you n-gg-s can leave me alone
i just want my money
and now one of my fake -ss homeboys won’t get none from me

[z-ro:]
i don’t need know help my n-gg-
i can do bad on my own
and i don’t need no company lil momma
even tho i know you give great dome
i rather play my xbox 360 while smoking and sipping drank
ain’t even goin waste no gas, going to get some -ss, i’m a keep my gas in my tank
leave my money in my pocket i never leave it with hoes
put a ring on my own finger cause i sleep with z-ro
homie i don’t giva f-ck about what you drive or how much money ya got
and i don’t giva d-mn if y’all really like me or not
i see your lips moving but i can’t hear nothing, cause i’m not listening
hoe you only talking to me because my teeth are glistening
and y’all n-gg-s be riding d-cks so much y’all need a d-ld-
that way when you think about z-ro, you can shove it up in yo -ss real slow
i’m a gangsta, but i’m a man first, and i tallerate no disrespect
my momma if it’s money for me to make weed goin slip the s-x

[chorus]

[slim thug:]
slim thugga, mothaf-cka
i’m trying stay rich, f-ck a b-tch (f-ck a b-tch)
i rather hit the studio and make another hit (another hit)
stop calling on my phone man i’m on some other sh-t
just leave a n-gg- alone, i ain’t the suckers you f-cking with
cause b-tch you ain’t about to get no dime or no quality time
i rather be on my grind, smoking weed, writing rhymes
all you rapping -ss n-gg-s calling me to get signed
want me to rap for free, you done lost yo mind (you done lost yo mind)
i don’t care how long i knew ya give a f-ck if we kin
we went to high school together giva f-ck if we friends
ya ain’t talking bout sh-t if you ain’t talking about end’s
bring ya ten g’s, i see what’cha talking bout then
all you roaching -ss n-gg-s and hoes in my face
can’t get it crumb from me, no so don’t waste
yo mothaf-ckin crime tryna plot on mine
i got my cash in my stash locked down, so now…

[chorus]

[z-ro:]
it’s a shame having a cell phone, but don’t want it to ring
cause i don’t wanna deal with bull sh-t people and the bull sh-t they might bring
that’s why i send them the voice mail heaven i don’t wanna talk
cause bull sh-t run a marathon, i rather keep it real and walk
i don’t giva d-mn about how pretty you look, you can still kiss my -ss(kiss my -ss)
especially if i got to choose between you and my cash(my cash)
i’m a choose money everytime, anywhere i can always get a new whip
besides, i’m what b-tches be trying find, i’m young, black and i’m rich
if you thinking i’m goin pay money to hit that -ss
i gotta trick for your ugly -ss
i’ll dismiss you right after i hit you and then go f-ck your friends
then you’ll be ready to committing suicide and then i’ll never speak to you again
my n-gg- gredy, my n-gg- rickby, my n-gg- michael coleon
them only three n-gg-s phone number programed in my phone
they call me the king of the ghetto, because i rule this b-tch
i’m about business i don’t partic-p-te in foolishness, b-tch

- z lyrics

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