Imaginary Playerz

Yeah
It's the motherfuckin' Brim, sis, you heard?
The shit these bitches be braggin' about is like
Shit I was doin' in like 2016 type shit
Like
You bitches don't even know the difference between vintage and archive
Like, haha

Yeah, look, now I spit that other shit, pretty motherfucker
Cardi B, every song platinum, I'm not the other bitch
Whatever you was gon' pay her, you gotta double it
Glory hole, bitches don't know who they fuckin' with
Their money my stocks and share money
Your booking fee is my makeup and hair money

Bitches say I think I'm the shit, and who?
And who? And this, just know you bitches can't live
I got the hottest shit, hop out, poppin' it
They say I walk around lookin' like a compliment
Shut up, stop whinin', Cardi still shinin'

Kept complainin' so I copped more diamonds
And more archive, vintage couture on me
I got more Gaultier than John probably
Summer, we cheeks out, winter, it's minks out
I buy grown men watches and make them take links out

I mean
It's really easy for me to talk this shit 'cause I live this shit
I just gotta make it rhyme

Bitches, I leave all fucked, fists be balled up

Y'all hoes look cheap, that shit don't cost much
I'm a star, but I'll smack you, don't get starstruck
Patients lookin' at me like, "Cardi, what the fuck?"
Striped like Thom Browne, these bitches should calm down

Quicker they lift up, the quicker they fall down
Pause, think, Twitter must be gassin' them heavy
Makin' them jump in the ring with the Brim before they ready
I seen hoes' fan pages make avatar changes
All that old love go to new fanbases
Now you're fifteen up, you already out of time
I'm a legend, they gon' hear my heels from the power lines, haha

What I'm sayin' is
God forbid some shit happens to the Brim
Fuck my motherfuckin' heels and nose and ass
Bronx legend, you heard?

My flop and your flop is not the same
If you did my numbers, y'all would pop champagne
If I did your numbers, I would hop out a plane
Suicide if I fall from the distance
To you and I, they gotta be kiddin'
Whatever they smokin' on, it gotta be hittin'
The baggage is posted, been in the closet sittin'
The car he just got you bow-tied and a ribbon
Been in my driveway not gettin' driven
Y'all some bench bitches, haha

Y'all just started startin'
Berthiau Carbone to me, that's Olive Garden

Couldn't take me there, that's y'all department
Tasteless, huh, basic
I'm a Waldorf penthouse, every state bitch
2016, I had Fashion Nova lit, hmm

Ass rich, y'all need your ass whipped

What the fuck you mean this bitch is out-dressin' me?
How that bitch out-dressin' me with my fuckin' box?
Ugh, I'll dress that bitch, haha

Fixin' y'all mouths to talk fashion with me
I'm the one who showed these girls what fashion could be
The first rap bitch on the cover of Vogue
But somehow y'all passed me, I suppose
I know your type, all bold and no cap
For the love of hip-hop, y'all knew me before that
These bitches is nuts, bitches is bitch sacks
And behind my back, bitches be tight like bra straps, ayy