I ain't calling every woman a ho, but, uh, if the shoe fits, wear it,
[Chorus x 3]
Tell me what you think, after you talk to one of these stupid hos,
Tell me how you feel, after you fuck one of these stupid hos.
Do you feel the same? Some hos want your change.
Hos been chasing niggas, rolling on their thangs.
They look for dope dealers, ballers, and hustlers.
See, real bitches hate busters.
Some bitches'll let you fuck 'em till they bleed.
Uh, but rats like cheese.
You see, pussy stretch 'em out.
You go raw, and hos make childs,
And then the game, it ain't no thing.
But it's a shame cause a ho in it for one thing.
They after big timers with big papers, Biz Markie make vapors.
But see these hos will hate you if they know that they can't break you.
Some of these hos need to shut their fucking mouth.
Wishing for a new car and don't have a house.
Don't play no games, trick, keep my name up out your mouth.
You say you hate me, but at the show you damn near passed out.
Wanting me to pay your rent, but not your relatives.
You mad at me, your baby daddy don't claim your kids.
You want a baller to fall for you.
But after a nigga fuck you, he don't even call you.
Dollar signs in your eyes, ho.
Claiming you a virgin, but on tape you fuckin' big Mo.
You rippin' round town, you say you fucked a tru nigga.
I ask P and Silkk, they say they couldn't remember.
You or your name, you stupid ho.
So get your kids, get your drawers, and hit the door.
Ho, I ain't got time for these bitches,
Now would I see if I fucked these hos, man 'cause P calls them a trip.
Lookin' at me like a big old dollar sign, figure them hos can get rich.
Now everybody worrying and shit, looking all stupid and shit.
Niggas be acting soft.
When I met her, she was cool as fuck.
All of a sudden, everybody got a fucking problem.
Now, why you worrying about what kind of car that I got?
Conversating with those tricks, you talking shit.
Been looking at my rings and my watch.
Now after you hit it, look this trick, who you giving the cold shoulder,
And after you get your nut, then you be like mad as fuck.
Look at her be like man, it's more over.
So you be sad when she there, and you be glad when she left.
And you be mad when she around so you pack your bags and stuff.
These hos like a diamond,
And be wearing things for free, but I'm a put them in they place.
Man, them hos be cool at first,
Then turn fucking crazy like a guest on Ricky Lake.
I'll play the game for what it's worth nigga, lil' G done keeping composure.
I'm a soldier, when I go on a date, I'm a bring guns, fuck bring roses.
These hos a trip.
Ha ha, yeah.
What these hos don't realize;
They don't realize that uh,
If we was to give a bitch something, even if it was a few G's,
It really ain't nothing.
It ain't nothing but pocket change to us, nigga.
Can't break the bank, baby.
And uh, treat these hos like fiends,
Give them just enough, so they'll come back.
Bitch, I don't need you, you need me
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
"Tell Me" as written by Sidney Anthony Miller Samantha Barbera
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, SONGS MUSIC PUBLISHING
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