Hood B*tch Songtext

von Azealia Banks

I smoke and get high like Project Pat
Leave a nigga in the trap like a project rat
You wanna fuck with my money bust a hole through ya hat
And leave you rotting in the sewer, you the water on tap
Cause me and my bitches don't play no more
Bum rush a nigga while he picks the juice at the store
Get him for his Christian Diors and Mauri gators
Niggas called the cops so he said "Come in, chasers"
Jesting every fucking skater for his skateboard
Wearing BBC denim, nigga, I'm a take yours
I'm a shake floors in my dry denim jeans
Black tee, black hair, and my lip gloss clean
I move like scene when I dip across the abstract
Got makeup leave the ticket on the dash
I'm looking for the cash cause I'm tryna' cop the double-trunks
Boys act stupid so you know I've got to double-bump

You're a woman like no other
You lift me when I'm down and blue
You make me care for you every day
There's no other in my life but you
Yeah, yeah

You like the way Sevens stay up on my hip
But the nigga don't never got something in they clip
Grip-grip got the chrome zip aimed at your lip
Never seen a young bitch pop like this
Yup, and the niggas really like this
Nameplate in the middle of my nice tits
Diesel and I'm higher than your flight is
On Verde day y'all playin' where the kites is
Stay steamin' where the sites is
Y'all bitches still gleaming at the prices
See through females like a psychic
She's mad cause her man wanna pipe this
She could fuck around and get chopped into slices
Body parts in the gutter where the crap dice is
And that one'll be a cold case
They found her head, it was missing her whole face
See I'm a scratch city
And I reach for the tech and spray
I spray just like Air Wick and Glade
But you won't smell white lilies and sage
Wow this little girl sounds insane
I've been listening to Wayne and piffing up the brain
Long black weave and a few gold chains
Semi-automatic and some real good brain

I spit heavy on the beat like I'm tryna' get the taste out
Them other niggas on it like they got the cake mouth
Seventeen, been hot since I came out
Got every whack rapper shaking like a change pouch
I make out then I send a nigga's face off
Then to the left, boy you gotta break out
Don't let the door hit you where the good lord split you
And the fifth will leave pool on the floor with you
Bitches better get like me
Fuck love I keep a couple tricks up my sleeve
So when one leaves another nigga's in the elevator
So take the stairs, not the elevator