bitches ain't serious, man these bitches delirious
All these bitches inferiors, I just pimp my interiors
I just pick up and go, might pick up a hoe
Might give conversation, if you kick up the dough
Never mind my money; never mind my stacks
Every bitch wanna be me, you can find 'em in Saks
"Pink Friday" two milli, "Super Bass" triple plat'
When you see me on Ellen, just admit that I'm winning
Do a show for Versace, they request me by name
And if they don't get Nicki, it just won't be the same
When I'm sitting with Anna, I'm really sitting with Anna
Ain't a metaphor punchline, I'm really sitting with Anna!!
Front row at Oscar de la Renta posture
Ain't a bitch that could do it, not even my impostor
Put these bitches on lockout, where the fuck is your roster?
I pull up in that new new, marinara and pasta
7-Up went and gave, my commercial to Cee-Lo
But don't tell them I said it, let's keep it on the d-low
If you need you a look, just put me on your song
But you know it'll cost, about six figures long
But you bitches ain't got it, where the fuck is your budgets?
Flying spurs for hers, me I'm fucking above it
And I just got the ghost, and I'm calling it (Casper)
But this shit is so cold, it belong in Alaska
Why the fuck am I styling? I competes with myself
When you win against Nicki, you depleted your wealth
And I'm not masturbating, but I'm feeling myself
Paparazzi is waiting, cause them pictures'll sell
Now don't you feel real stupid, yeah that's egg on your face
If you wasn't so ugly, I'd put my dick in yo' face!
Dick in your face, put my dick in your face, yeah!