mind your business - zack fox lyrics
[intro]
yeah
yeah, yeah, yeah
bnyx
[chorus]
i told that b*tch she need to mind her f*ckin’ business
we ain’t goin’ back and forth, this ain’t no tennis
told that n*gga what i’m worth, that hurt his feelings
got a chevy, off white, same color lois griffin
[verse 1]
i’m paranoid, i hold the choppa while i’m sh*ttin’
i’m smokin’ big pressure, call that hypertension
i took the top off the whip, circumcision
if a n*gga want beef, beat him purple like he grimace
one*hand touch down like i’m jerry rice
i’m a bad b*tch from the 90’s, call me scary spice
been around the world, seen ’em turning like a satellite
water on my body, need to sit me in a bag of rice
seen the sh*t comin’ as youngin so it happened twice
me and all my n*ggas gettin’ active, you an acolyte
faded as the f*ck, i’m the club, takin’ bad advice
i’m a southern n*gga, i like b*tches with some cellulite
[verse 2]
hop out the whip like, “hey, b*tch”
chillin’ in the pool, i flew a cougar out to vegas
b*tch, i’m off a bean, got me goin’ super saiyan
put the ruger to his face and told him, “do the macarena”
i got the .40, i ain’t finna yell
boy, i’m ’bout to rage in the cage, n*gga, ring the bell
if they ever let me into heaven, i’ma make it h*ll
f*ck it up, they send me straight to h*ll, i’m from atl
i’ll hit a n*gga so hard he’ll lose his sense of smell
comin’ at me sideways, leave a n*gga parallel
besties with my blower, “here it go” just like we kenan*kel
f*ck n*gga trippin’, we gon’ clip him like a fingernail
run up in your crib, leave it empty like a clearance sale
henny got my stomach hurtin’, b*tch, i need some ginger ale
throwin’ all my jewelry at these strippers, b*tch, i make it hail
only real n*ggas finna get it, like it’s sickle cell
[chorus]
i told that b*tch she need to mind her f*ckin’ business
we ain’t goin’ back and forth, this ain’t no tennis
told that n*gga what i’m worth, that hurt his feelings
got a chevy, off white, same color lois griffin
i told that n*gga, “mind your f*ckin’ business”
i feel like master p, it ain’t no f*ckin’ limit
don’t n0body give a f*ck ’bout your opinion
n*gga, worry ’bout yourself, you need to go and find some b*tches
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