Bitter (Narration By Cardi B)

Summer Walker

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    Better stop playing with me
    Bitch better stop playing with me
    Bitter, mad at me, mad at my nigga
    (Better stop playing with me)
    Better stop playing with me

    Bitter, yeah
    Mad at me, mad at my nigga
    Mad at the fact he ain't wichu'
    Mad at the fact that it's me

    But this shit bigger

    Than me and you alone
    So why you puttin' on
    For the Shade Room and Insta
    Bitch jus' be lookin' for attention

    Trust me you can get it
    Pull up whenever, whenever
    You know I'm with it
    Don't get it twisted
    Nothing like none of these bitches

    But sometimes I get in my feelings
    Sometimes I know I be tripping
    But why these hoes all in our business

    How he don't care 'bout his children?
    How he's supposed to be there y'all won't let him get 'em?
    How you posted like that on the Gram for a thousand I bet you can't post a picture
    (Bet you can't, bet you can't)

    Wondering if you even knew this bitch for real
    London did you screw this bitch for real?
    They be on that groupie shit for real

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    And I know she thought she struck
    When she let a nigga fuck
    Man that bitch is lookin' stuck
    And I bet you when you came
    That she thought she came up
    Now that bitch is feeling dumb

    She prolly thought it came with a million
    She prolly thought you changed how she living
    Prolly thought that dick came with the fame and the riches

    Bitter
    Mad at me, mad at my nigga
    Mad at the fact he ain't wichu'
    Mad at the fact that it's me

    But this shit bigger

    Than me and you alone
    So why you puttin' on
    For the Shade Room and Insta
    Bitch jus' be lookin' for attention

    Bitter baby mamma
    Always point her finger at a nigga
    That there's the problem
    Always put the blame on a nigga
    And they still tryna solve it
    Always wanna gossip

    Her and her friend have been talking
    But whatever they be sayin' ain't 'bout shit
    Think they niggas supposed to pay for they outfit
    Get they nails and feet done and then hit it

    Yeah
    You ain't shit bitch
    Claim you independent
    But you ain't did shit
    Living in Section 8 and you still can't pay rent
    You ain't shit bitch
    So trust you with your momma and you ain't friendship
    But you want that child support
    What you think this is?
    Oh

    Just because you let him smash
    That don't mean he ever knew ya
    Just 'cause y'all got a past, that don't mean you got a future
    This mine for life
    No switchin' sides
    We ride or die

    And that's why I know you

    Bitter
    Mad at me, mad at my nigga
    Mad at the fact he ain't wichu
    Mad at the fact that it's me

    But this shit bigger
    Than me and you alone
    So why you puttin' on
    For the Shade Room and Insta
    Bitch jus' be lookin' for attention
    (Better stop playing with me)
    (Bitch you better stop playing with me)

    (Better stop playin' with me)
    (Bitch better stop playin' with me)
    Well, Summer Walker, you know I been seein'
    You know, all the bullshit that's been goin' on with you today
    And, you know, I don't know if the rumors are true
    I don't know, I don't care, it's not my business, but if it is true
    Don't let bitches, like, make
    Don't let them feel like they have a one-up by destroying your moment
    By fucking telling your business to the world
    On some: Ha-ha, yeah, I'ma do it on purpose, I'ma do it spitefully
    Do it your own way and do it beautifully, do it special
    If you are pregnant and everything, say it in a beautiful way in your music
    Say why you, you know, decided to be with your nigga
    Even though you have problems, put that drama in your music, yeah
    'Cause if bitches wanna get clout off you, you gonna get clout off them
    And you gonna put that shit in your music
    Say some shit like: I got my own fuckin' money
    Make them bitches feel hurt, hit them bitches where it hurt
    And put that shit in your music, make money off it in your music
    Fuck these hoes

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    Composición: Summer Walker

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