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wait!? (no hook) - kwa (rap) lyrics

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kwa, i think that’s short for kwaje’lanne
i don’t know how to pr*nounce that
we gon’ get it right though
i think she just started doing music, so ya’ll make sure y’all go check that out

uh yeah, let’s get right into it

yeah
um
aye she ain’t even popping, she can’t spit like me
is she fluent on the topic doing tricks like me?
and these n*ggas really tricking need a chick like me
but i don’t need nan n*gga, chick get like me
i’ll pull up ass out and a blue icee
blow a kiss at any b*tch, say she don’t like me

if i ride it from the back, bet he gon’ wife me
and he ain’t gotta sell weight, but i am pricey
i ain’t never met a n*gga that could one night me
it’s a million other hoes still ain’t one like me

say it’s a cold*ass world, baby, come ice me
it’s a quarter till, bet i make him come by three
n*gga can’t hype me, sh*t is unlikely
i like n*ggas who be ballin’, but he can’t buy me
b*tches can’t try me, sh*t is unlikely
yeah, i seen that n*gga callin’, but he ain’t my st**z
let me cuff my sleeve, let me puff my weed
and these b*tches really sleepin’, tell him up them zs

yeah, i seen you touch base, but you ain’t touch the queen
yeah, i see you f*ckin’ him, but you can’t f*ck with me
b*tch, i like to f*ck with one n*gga, that’s a tight grip
and i’d rather smoke za, but i might sip

b*tches talk loud on the gram, really tight lip
if that n*gga fine, double tap and a right cl!ck
side chick, we ain’t never ever one of those
you kiss him in his mouth, this n*gga suckin’ on my toes

you a hoe for this n*gga, he my sl*t though
let him eat it up, but he can’t put it in my b*tt though
uh*oh, pretty b*tch, he like, bae, you throwin’ it back
if he put you on top, cause he know it’s a wrap

then you need a new whip, or he holdin’ you back
real sh*t, ask a baller, they gon’ know it ain’t cap
real quick, where my bad b*tches throwin’ the stacks
where my big booty hoes touch your toes if it’s fat

where my hood ass n*ggas that be stuck in the trap
if you see a bad b*tch, tell her make the sh*t clap, like
tell her make the sh*t clap, like
tell her make the sh*t clap, like
why the f*ck these n*ggas so mother f*cking broke
but still want some mother f*cking p*ssy for free

aye
rich n*ggas to the front, broke n*ggas get lost
i need a n*gga that’s gon’ swipe, he gon’ ask what it cost
he can’t f*ck with a boss, and that’s word

if he ain’t spendin’ cash, kick that n*gga to the curb
heard real n*ggas tap in, fake n*ggas tap out
i know some n*ggas still mad, they can’t see what it’s about
they be chasin’ the clout, and that’s word

if he ain’t eatin’, kick that n*gga to the curb
swerve, doin’ 80 in a 50 in the fast lane
ridin’ with my people, casamigos, yeah, that way
bring him to the crib, we can chill, but he can’t stay

need a couple mil, f*ck a feel, bae, i can’t wait
ooh, i get real lit, got a couple n*ggas that i deal with
know a couple n*ggas wanna feel it, they be stealin’ n*ggas, k!ll me
got more ups and downs than a drill beat

tellin’ me, you hear me, do you feel me
right, brown skin, i’m a poet, not a lyricist
hating for no reason, do that really mean you feelin’ me
i power up on hoes, any chance i get, i’m k!llin’ sh*t
he want a good girl, but i’d rather be a villain
miss petty guess it came with the pretty
i’m just a hood*ass country girl actin’ sadiddy
rockin’ remy and my nails long, f*ckin’ him to trey songz

b*tches thought they seen the last of me, boy, was they wrong
askin’ me some questions, i don’t know sh*t
if that n*gga fine with a bag, i lose focus
he don’t get the kitty, now he mad, hocus pocus

that n*gga was here, now he gone, red notice, what’s the motion
they ain’t listenin’ for real unless i’m poppin’ my sh*t
and i ain’t havin’ it for real till i can pop a few whips
three cribs with no bedrooms, two studios with leg room

a couple bad b*tches just to clean it when i ain’t home, yeah
real talk, who be poppin’ like me
who y’all really wanna hear speak on the topic like me
tell a b*tch we gettin’ money, you ain’t gotta like me

and your n*gga really a gnat, he could never hype me
that sh*t is unlikely, that n*gga not my st**z
it’s too many broke n*ggas, let me grab my keys
b*tches can’t try me, that’s really unlikely

love a n*gga that be ballin’, still he can’t buy me
he can buy me rings if i rock his chain
then that n*gga really mine, i don’t need his name
if i don’t really like the n*gga, i might share his page

and the letters go a to z, but that b*tch ain’t k

- kwa rap lyrics

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