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real receipts - emily's ears lyrics

[intro]
(phone ringing)
girl, you seen that weak ass diss?
yes b*tch, that sh*t was funny
bro, we need to eat this sh*t up for real
like, deadass
come to the studio like right now
im finna pull up
ight bet

[chorus: emily ears]
b*tch, i got the real receipts
how yall even got receipts? (the f*ck)
yall hoes ain’t had to pay for nothing
yall hoes deadbeat (period)
should’ve never played wit’ me
turn this sh*t to deadbeat
both yall b*tches sweet
yall can’t even f*ck wit’ me

[verse 1: emily ears]
cuz last time i checked, i’m who yall hoes tryna be (ok)
i’ve been holdin back my tongue
do this fightin’ sh*t for real
do the instagram for fun
pop a b*tch without a gun
fly to la, get my one
man, these b*tches ain’t on nun
gotta whoop these lil hoes
these weak b*tches my sons
drag yo damaged hair up in a bun
see that b*tch, you better run
after this you know i won
shouldn’t have made that weak ass diss
armed [?]
now yall missed, cuz yall ain’t talkin’ bout sh*t
i been tryna stay out the way
don’t like to be in drama
you get off them apex, then you fat just like yo mama (haha)
yall hoes broke, live off of labels
still ain’t see a dollar
everyday yall tryna grow
b*tch, yall steaded gettin’ smaller

troy had you on yo knees [?] bleed just tryna swallow
i got the whole world against me, and i’m still harder
girl, get your sorry ass on, you and your ghost writer
and tell that stick to hit me up, she know im tryna fight her
roll yo ass up in this paint, now im just tryna light her

[chorus: emily ears]
b*tch, i got the real receipts
how yall even got receipts?
yall hoes ain’t had to pay for nothing
yall hoes deadbeat
should’ve never played wit’ me
turn this sh*t to deadbeat
both yall b*tches sweet
yall can’t even f*ck wit’ me

[verse 2: emily ears]
play wit’ yo p*ssy up on only fans
b*tch, dont play wit’ me
i got the n*ggas that get fed time
them n*ggas stay wit’ me
this ain’t a diss, this real life for hoes that hate on me
and nun little except you hoes, b*tch im big e
how you tryna come for me?
when yall sell p*ssy for the free
all you wanna do is cry, so go and cry yourself to sleep
with your low selfless steam
go smash a n*gga for a drink
b*tch, i got the real receipts
all the cars they be leased
im a gremlin, ate that p*ssy, even though that p*ssy stink
b*tch, you a stick, blow yo ass just like a leaf
you a grown ass lady, knock them braces out yo t**th
yall still ain’t gettin active, b*tch yall claimin’ that its beef
yall hands out yall tryna reach, both yall p*ssy for the streets
ocean wide like the sea, only real reason why that song did good was cuz of me

cuz yall other sh*t ain’t poppin’, talkin’ 30k a week
had to do alot of suckin’ for that bmb chain
my brother did alot of husslin’ for that rbt chain
you can diamond test it now, that sh*t gon buss out the frame
we got this sh*t out the mud, why yall throw dirt on our name
both yall hoes can’t even rap, yall need to stay in yall lane
i feel no type of pain, treat my n*ggas all the same
i dont got no type of mane

p*ssy long like a train, matter fact, you ran through like a train
we gon break and send you back, then we gon’ hop up on our plane
yall dont got my type of brain, i can diss yall all day
still ain’t say no type of name, i dont f*ck wit’ n0body
everybody like the chain, debo been tryna f*ck i put that on the gang

[chorus]
b*tch, i got the real receipts
how yall even got receipts?
yall hoes ain’t had to pay for nothing
yall hoes deadbeat
should’ve never played wit’ me
turn this sh*t to deadbeat
both yall b*tches sweet
yall can’t even f*ck wit’ me
[verse 3: jayde]
rule number 1, dont beef wit’ b*tches that can really rap
rule number 2, dont friend a friend, that f*ck yo n*gga behind yo back
everytime yall see my face, make these lil b*tches mad
me and e was lookin’ at yo diss, that sh*t had made us laugh
i would go and f*ck your new mane, but that d*ck look like its trash

now im boutta answer question that yall always like to ask
how four*eyed jayde pull the first n*gga you had
how she talkin all this sh*t, when knowin boutta beat my ass
troy told me that you couldn’t last
weak ass hoe you really sad
yalls for real? wait try again
call me misses steal yo mane, call me misses steal yo friend
you need a burger call ms. kim

they call me ice spice look*alike
im bad and im slim
she been stress eatin’ dont make a diss, b*tch go hit the gym
big b’s up on my face, i can’t see you dirty hoes
so b*tch get out my way, 500 just a waste
ain’t no comin back from this, since these b*tches wanna play

- emilys ears lyrics

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