Won't Be Coming Back Lyrics

[Intro - Baby]
Oh yeah nigga, holla at ya boy! (Oh yeah, holla at ya
You under smell, number one motherf**ka! (Bird-Bezzy,
Bird call (brrrrrrrrr)
Mannie Fresh, laced me wit this beat, you know (Yeah!)
You under smell it, we got's to get some money baby
Ma I got to look good
We got to get this cheese nigga

[Verse 1 - Baby]
Nigga flip on the block, the birds flew in
I pick up a bite, I attend to the wind
Shit, hungry dogs lyin town, dogs on the ground
Niggas hustlin, and pimpin tryna put it down

Pitch off the mound, that third world clown
We hustle for the money, we scramble for the pound
It's pimpin uptown, the boy in the lounge
Put the ice on the shelf, put the whips up clown

So put the whips up nigga, the Bird's in town
We tryna get the money, the jewels, the brown
Big houses, pimpin, shine uptown
Never gon' stop, we millionaire bound, be-atch

[Mannie Fresh]
Mr. Pimp Pickle, walk wit a wiggle
Keep a project bitch, and she gotta have that giggle
It's "Sex In the City" every time she get wit me
Wit her - up and down, and up - she pussy whipped

But her pimp gon' take it, or pull it out and break it
Stop for ya pop, look her in her face, then shake it
A different day another dollar, see ya later I will
Valet please could you bring around my Impala

[Chorus - Mannie Fresh]
I got to go, and you got to leave
I'm in the wind baby, pleave believe
That you won't be coming back
Get yo hat, yo coat
And walk on out the do'
'Cause you won't be, coming back

[Verse 2 - Baby]
It ain't nothin to a balla ma, cook somethin right
I need some chicken, French fries, need it off top
Lace my ride, black wall my tires
Bought mami to the mall, Stiletto boots, skirt tie

I worked her ride, I beamed her a line
She love a balla baby, Birdman pimp fly
Smoke hydro, we do it all night
Mannie Fresh, Baby, CMR for life

Lil' funky, nasty bitch, I pay you to f**k
For what bitch, better catch ya cut
I'm not a rat's haven, for hoes, I'ma piiiimp
Make them hoes call me Caddy Daddy Sliiiim

I'm a mac'a, break a gear and a game
Show a hotter hustle niggas, and bring head of the
Who you think brought that Caddy, and that brand new
Wit them 24's on 'em, and all that blang - bitch


[Verse 3 - Baby]
I could give you what you want ma, you give me what I
Make ya fly like a bird, and stay dressed to a T
Wit Stunna on ya neck, Smith-N-Wesson on the seat
Kitchen countin' loot, I'm in the streets gettin' money

Pimpin' is a natural, on hoes I'm wit it
You never ride accurate, just dance and business
And we do the best of thangs, and we never slow down
We keep it all hood, cause that's how it's goin' out

Slide in this ma, go holla at ya dogs
And have a good time, and head to the mall
I'm a take you to the block, wit the crack and mac
But it's the Birdman daddy, got the stacks of stacks


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these lyrics are submitted by kaan

Songwriter(s): Bryan Williams, Brenda Harvey Richie, Lionel B.Richie Jr, Byron O. Thomas

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