In The Mixx (Brosovahoes)

[Verse 1:] Been a minute since we heard some hot shit Im at a holy different hostage And no six I said i was gon' blow Wasn't rappin I coulda been a fuckin prophet Let's be honest you can't top this Y'all be spitting that pop shit We all know you put some money To a wack ass song it's gon' turn to a top hit Ok now fuck that y'all been cheating the whole time Loyalty my niggas that's ten toes down Never let a bitch disappear with my rounds If she do kick her out there ain't nothing to talk about I got years, years on you bitches man I could disappear on you bitches man Come back like i never left With some new shit Still got the clubs gettin thick man Wife? Sike, all she get is one night They get addicted to the pipe I thought i told ya, I thought i told ya I'm capable of fucking up your life Don't cross that line, respect the crew When you with us hot strike might leave All you hoes at the club let them know what's up Cause it's bros over hoes never trip about those [Chorus:] Same round I know she ride a dick real good But don't trust that hoe Hey now, I know you been cheating while im with the big pot Don't wife these bitches One night these bitches Don't wife these bitches One night these bitches Don't wife these bitches Thats why im in the club yelling Bros ova hoes, Bros ova hoes (thats all that i know, i know, i know) Know i can't let your ass up in the mix You start hearing things and now you spraying shit Bros ova hoes, Bros ova hoes (thats all that i know, i know, i know) Know i can't let your ass up in the mix You start hearing things and now you spraying shit [Verse 2:] Well shout out to the thrill one Can't forget about the real bitches The ones that hold it down when you're not around Keep it tight, i think i can build with you On the grind she ain't really with the fun play She said fuck niggas Bitch her man Franklin is her Man Crush Monday Order a hundred bottles send it to the VIP Even though they self made, need nothing from me Tell the DJ run this bitch right over Throw that blunt, stunna, nigga stunting on the sofa Pull a rose out, shittin on the ass throw it out The hoes shout when we come through, hold out You trippin dog, better tell that hoe go now She probably smashing other niggas in your house Damn! [Chorus] [Verse 3:] Hold Up You fine as hell but don't got a car You ain't bad as i thought you are I can't mess with them Instagram hoes That's just trying to get their numbers up Long as the gang with me shit what i am straight Red got the heat, Mins got the briefcase Throwing money like it's fake Tony might jar a nigga if he think he tripping Al might wet a nigga if he think he wiggy Wizzle in a cut he better to hit em up If I say so got his trigger finger itching Ain't talking none of them can't afford to listen Got the other half in the club real tipping Got the bill with me so she bout to get a millie I just fuck her then i tell her go about your business [Chorus]