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attack of the ex's (interlude) - robb bank$ lyrics

[verse 1]
i never wanted your ass in the first place
last time a p*ssy n*gga tried to race, he ain’t even make third place
your girlfriend spoke at my birthday
said she honored that i let her learn me
five star, michelin, i’m a general
i make all the waiters take surveys
know that i did that
n*gga, i bent your corner, i spint your b*tch
five star, i’ma stunt in the big ‘bach
i’ll smash off on you, then flash my wrist
i adventure with a thot like sinbad
tell that ho sit back, lay up, kick back, b*tch
n*gga, your brother been dead for some months
how thе f*ck you still ain’t get no get?

[chorus]
n*gga, you’d probably rat when i chеat on my b*tches
type n*gga probably live with his sister
type n*gga probably lie and be tender
type n*gga wanna beef ’bout women
n*gga, my main, my side b*tch textin’
this sh*t feel like attack of the exes
it get surgical, it get treacherous
i be curvin’ ’em, i be bendin’
n*gga, my main ho, side b*tch textin’
this sh*t feel like attack of the exes
i need first whenever they turn besties
lil’ threesomes, throw me ‘fore we in it (for real)
cloud the watch, baby, cloud the necklace
and tell your girlfriend she need a breath mint
how you such a g, but still a gentleman?
i got your lil’ bm in a blender
[verse 2]
put cognac, dollars, and fitbit
and give it as a lil’ gift to my thick b*tch
i pull a plus*size supermodel, big back
they be like, “godd*mn, femto ripped that”
i paid fifteen thousand to sit back
yeah, that new gt like goten
y’all p*ssy n*ggas never had no set
no money, no motion, no progress (pathetic)
she ready for this life of luxury
livin’ like bugsy, n*gga, i thug ’em
ho, i don’t talk much and i don’t cuddle
unless i trust you, got all these hoes confuzzled
probably was thinkin’ i loved you
i got the ho obsessed off the muscle
i got cake on fistfights only
this sh*t look like kung fu hustle

[chorus]
n*gga, you’d probably rat when i cheat on my b*tches
type n*gga probably live with his sister
type n*gga probably lie and be tender
type n*gga wanna beef ’bout women
n*gga, my main, my side b*tch textin’
this sh*t feel like attack of the exes
it get surgical, it get treacherous
i be curvin’ ’em, i be bendin’
n*gga, my main ho, side b*tch textin’
this sh*t feel like attack of the exes
i need first whenever they turn besties
lil’ threesomes, throw me ‘fore we in it (for real)
cloud the watch, baby, cloud the necklace
and tell your girlfriend she need a breath mint
how you such a g, but still a gentleman?
i got your lil’ bm in a blender
put co’—
[outro]
i look at the way
his life
put no more into him
i don’t know, i see a lot of that in him

- robb bank lyrics

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