lirik lagu baby momma – yg
[chorus]
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama
[verse 1]
always got somethin’ to say every time she don’t get away
your whole life i done payed, with me, you had better days
all them bags i brought you, it’s a shame
how the f*ck you find time to still complain?
questionin’ why i’m comin’ home late, b*tch, i put all the food on the plate
yeah, she stay b*tchin’
i’m like, “shut the f*ck up and clean the kitchеn”
love her from a distance
wе talk crazy to each other, that’s part of our religion
tellin’ your friends my business, you h*lla chatty
you let my daughter leave with her head nappy
i still do everythin’ to make you happy
you talk down on baby daddy
[chorus]
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama
[verse 2]
always poppin’ up with new friends
that’s the type of sh*t i ain’t in
tellin’ me how to spend my ms
but you tellin’ me you want the new benz
if i call you out your name, that’s a sin
if you touch me, b*tch, that’s where it end
i’m tellin’ you we need a cleanse
i’m tellin’ you but you don’t comprehend
no good, burnt out from the hood
moved you to the valley, like a real n*gga should
my kids, good, how they live, good
they don’t eat pork, no pig, good
you supposed to be a n*gga ribs, can’t no other n*gga call dibs
if i’m payin’ for the crib, don’t have another n*gga ’round my kids
[chorus]
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama (i hate my baby mama, i hate my—)
i hate my baby mama
[outro]
a*always got somethin’ to say
(a*always got somethin’ to say)
w*w*w*w*whitney done had better days
(w*w*w*w*whitney done had better days)
q*q*que*questionin’ why i’m comin’ home late
(q*q*que*questionin’ why i’m comin’ home late)
b*tch, i, b*tch, i put all the food on the plate
(b*tch, i, b*tch, i put all the food on the plate)
i hate my baby mama
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