Bad Bitch Concierge

[VERSE 1] What you like, she said shopping I said what else, she said mobbing The past couple years have been kinda rough, so clothes is what I get lost in I love it, do it often/ money, power, respect, Balenciga 2-7, 365, where my Pradas up in the hot tub Got a lot of product, she rock Proenza Said fuck her rent and just copped a Benz-a Ain’t got no man, but she’s got a temper Capricorn ass, born in December In Phillip Lim and Timberlands, credit card no limit, Soulja Slim Purse European, got the golden trim Can’t organize shit, she just throws it in Still on the A train, wearing A. Wang Got the same bangs, tryn’a maintain it’s the same thing Different day, different bangles, bling bling Couple chains, couple rings do the damn thing Man, they say it ain’t tricking if you got it Well let me tell you, it ain’t tricking ‘cause bought it ———————————————————— [HOOK] I used to give a fuck, but not anymore Got a bad thing, she walk in any store She got a lot of friends, they all got plenty more She brought a couple through, she calling twenty more Bad bitches, bad bitches, bitches everywhere Feeling like I got a Bad Bitch Concierge Bad, bad, bad, bad bitches everywhere/ Feeling like I got a Bad Bitch Concierge ———————————————————— [VERSE 2 - !n$] Now Molly gone of that Mary Mary gone off that Molly Me, I’m somewhere in the middle, getting Monie Love in this party Got a young bitch that don’t cook or clean/ dress her ass off and she love McQueen Never worked a day in her life nigga, her sugar daddy, boy that Celine Thats a bad bitch, always talking that cash shit 30K in a zip lock, straight to the mall, she got a bag sick What’s that jacket? Margiela What them shoes ‘bout? Aaliyah What’s that bag there?—don’t worry What it cost ya?, a Honda Them other hoes, getting pissed off Can’t buy that with no gift card Her ass real, her titties real What that pussy ‘about?, I give it six stars With the world in her hand, a real nigga in her corner Head to the sky, that’s a bad bitch for ya’ sho’ nuff ———————————————————— [HOOK] ———————————————————— [VERSE 3] My, my, my, my, my chick dressing like Fashion Week Your, your, your, your, your chick, well her fashion’s weak See, mine don’t talk she just let her wrist speak Hipster, lipstick, light the Diptyque Fresh to death, she’s resting in peace Outfit—murder, chalking these cold streets Fred Segal these hoes, she Rodarte-ing the game Smelling like Bond #9, forty years of history all in them frames—vintage Riding round the world—living Own style she—different Money talks and red bottoms walk, everybody listening Looking like a model, feeling like a million 5 foot 11 when she up in them heels and Grew up in Carson, moved to The Hills and oh so good, but she bad as a villian damn Man, they say it ain’t tricking if you got it Well let me tell you, it ain’t tricking ‘cause bought it ———————————————————— [HOOK] ————————————————————