Red Barz

Am           C
Uh, yeah
Am           G
Some regular degular, bloody bars

[Verse]
Am                          C
I swear to God, they ain't wanna see
 me leave the club
Am                          G
Got up on my shit and now they 
scared to show me love
Am                          C
They'd rather see me on the pole 
twerkin' it for dubs
Am                          G
I guess I really gotta show them 
what the fuck is up
Am                          C
I'm on some other shit, that Cardi B
 gutta shit
Am                          G
Every time I catch a hating bitch, 
she on her stutter shit
Am                          C
Can't finish her words but on 
Instagram thuggin' shit
Am                          G
You set yourself up, don't make it 
seem like I be buggin', bitch
Am                          C
And niggas hatin' on me, really be 
upset
Am                          G
I don't know, make me wonder what 
you got between your legs
Am                          C
You a real nigga mad at a bitch for 
getting bread?
Am                          G
You's a bitch from birth, you just 
grew a third leg, woo!
Am                          C
Bite down, bite down, it was crunch 
time
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Am                          G
Yeah I skip all of them bitches in 
the lunch line
Am                          C
I put in work, now I'm here at the 
front line
Am                          G
Ready for the bullshit, I swear it's
 on my bloodline
Am                          C
Touch mine, getting slumped, slimed 
one time
Am                          G
Pump blind, bitches quick, then I 
dump mine
Am                          C
Pull up with the Gucci clutch, 
spitting clutch rhymes
Am                          G
Flyer than a big big B with a Blood 
tie
Am                          C
Don't do much, she get hard when I 
bust wines
Am                          G
No straws for this juice box, got 
one time
Am                          C
Last nigga I was with went insane
Am                          G
'Cause my head game movin' hills 
like I'm lookin' for the sunshine
Am                          C
I'm a Bronx bitch birthed from the 
hip-hop
Am                          G
From the block to the tick tock in 
the Patek watch
Am                          C
Quick drop with the cash, couldn't 
fit the Ziploc
Am                          G
Grips locked, get your shit popped 
in my flip flops
Am                          C
Walking out, but every dollar, I 
still want it all
Am                          G
Now he wanna nail me, I could give 
your man a cure
Am                          C
You gotta mail me, but I don't check
 my spam at all
Am                          G
Never feel what you're sayin' like 
I'm usin' Anbesol
Am                          C
Travel all around the states getting
 nice checks
Am                          G
I was tourin' off a tape, I had a 
hype set
Am                          C
Is that the reason all these niggas 
wanna pipe next?
Am                          G
I'm a creep, bitch, see his dick 
through his Nike Tech
Am                          C
Got 'em all scared, I ain't even 
strike yet
Am                          G
Wire up jaws when I swing if the mic
 stretch
Am                          C
I recall, took the right steps, had 
a shot
Am                          G
So I took the shit, now this game 
gon' need a life vest

[Otro]
Uh
I said, woo!
Huh