Lyrics Pop Ya Shit - Lady London

Oh my God
Ladies and gentlemen
You remember me? Long time

Shorty lurkin' on my page, better watch me flow
Hit the boomerang and let 'em watch me slow
Hit the zoom again and let 'em watch me close
Not to boast, I made it in your face like hibachi stoves
(Wok-wok-wok)
I love dealin' wit' a rich nigga
I love dealin' wit' a rich nigga
'Cause he gon' trick and I'ma trick, but he gon' trick bigger
My last nigga was a fraud, it was a big difference
I gave my heart, this nigga put it on a bitch picture
All black in a Range and it's been a year
The Cartier cover the frame of these denim tears
I occupy the lane of the game these bitches fear
I mean really what the fuck is you sayin'? These bitches weird
You a bottom feeder
Me? I'm in Ottolinger
Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn, I order either
I'm in AREA, The Attico, JPG
I'm in Gallery, Givenchy and Dion Lee
I mean, the Webster, yeah, they text me like every week
And the collection, no question, just get me three
I get respect without twerkin' for 'em up in the stu'
I get checks without workin' for 'em, I'm Twitter Blue
Civil with who?
Me? Bicker with you?
I'm like RSV mixed with Covid, sicker than flu
I put R&B mix it wit' poetry, this is new
You take Lauryn, me, Jigga, and H.E.R., and you get the truth
You think you Big Meech, a big reach
You's a big bitch, start callin' you big sis'
I could never talk to lil' homie, the lil' guy
Who gotta wait for the big homie to get the tab
The last up, the Casper
The lil' nigga they send to go get some Backwoods
Woooh
I'm just cringin' at the thought
Ben Simmons when in Philly
I'm just sittin' on the floor, like, oh, boy