My anaconda don't...
My Anaconda don't...
My Anaconda don't want none unless you got buns hun
Boy toy named Troy used to live in Detroit
Big dope dealer money, he was getting some coins
Was in shootouts with the law, but he live in a palace
Bought me Alexander McQueen, he was keeping me stylish
Now that's real, real, real,
Gun in my purse, bitch I came dressed to kill
Who wanna go first? I had them push daffodils
I'm high as hell, I only took a half of pill
I'm on some dumb shit
By the way, what he say?
He can tell I ain't missing no meals
Come through and fuck 'em in my automobile
Let him eat it with his grills,
He keep telling me to chill
He keep telling me it's real, that he love my sex appeal
Because he don't like 'em boney, he want something he can grab
So I pulled up in the Jag, and i hit 'em with the jab like...
Dun-d-d-dun-dun-d-d-dun-dun
My Anaconda don't...
My Anaconda don't...
My Anaconda don't want none unless you got buns hun
Oh my gosh, look at her butt
Oh my gosh, look at her butt
Oh my gosh, look at her butt
Look at her butt
(look at her butt)
This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles
Dick bigger than a tower, I ain't talking about Eiffel's
Real country ass nigga, let me play with his rifle
Pussy put his ass to sleep, now he calling me NyQuil
Writer(s): Onika Tanya Maraj, Ernest Clark, Jamal F. Jones, Marcos Enrique Palacios, Anthony L. Ray, Jonathan Myvett
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com