In The Mixx (Brosovahoes)

[Verse 1:]
Been a minute since we heard some hot shit
Im at a holy different hostage
And no six I said i was gon' blow
Wasn't rappin I coulda been a fuckin prophet
Let's be honest you can't top this
Y'all be spitting that pop shit
We all know you put some money
To a wack ass song it's gon' turn to a top hit
Ok now fuck that y'all been cheating the whole time
Loyalty my niggas that's ten toes down
Never let a bitch disappear with my rounds
If she do kick her out there ain't nothing to talk about
I got years, years on you bitches man
I could disappear on you bitches man
Come back like i never left With some new shit
Still got the clubs gettin thick man
Wife? Sike, all she get is one night
They get addicted to the pipe
I thought i told ya, I thought i told ya
I'm capable of fucking up your life
Don't cross that line, respect the crew
When you with us hot strike might leave
All you hoes at the club let them know what's up
Cause it's bros over hoes never trip about those

[Chorus:]
Same round I know she ride a dick real good
But don't trust that hoe
Hey now, I know you been cheating while im with the big pot
Don't wife these bitches
One night these bitches
Don't wife these bitches
One night these bitches
Don't wife these bitches
Thats why im in the club yelling
Bros ova hoes, Bros ova hoes (thats all that i know, i know, i know)
Know i can't let your ass up in the mix
You start hearing things and now you spraying shit
Bros ova hoes, Bros ova hoes (thats all that i know, i know, i know)
Know i can't let your ass up in the mix
You start hearing things and now you spraying shit

[Verse 2:]
Well shout out to the thrill one
Can't forget about the real bitches
The ones that hold it down when you're not around
Keep it tight, i think i can build with you
On the grind she ain't really with the fun play
She said fuck niggas
Bitch her man Franklin is her Man Crush Monday
Order a hundred bottles send it to the VIP
Even though they self made, need nothing from me
Tell the DJ run this bitch right over
Throw that blunt, stunna, nigga stunting on the sofa
Pull a rose out, shittin on the ass throw it out
The hoes shout when we come through, hold out
You trippin dog, better tell that hoe go now
She probably smashing other niggas in your house
Damn!

[Chorus]

[Verse 3:]
Hold Up
You fine as hell but don't got a car
You ain't bad as i thought you are
I can't mess with them Instagram hoes
That's just trying to get their numbers up
Long as the gang with me shit what i am straight
Red got the heat, Mins got the briefcase
Throwing money like it's fake
Tony might jar a nigga if he think he tripping
Al might wet a nigga if he think he wiggy
Wizzle in a cut he better to hit em up
If I say so got his trigger finger itching
Ain't talking none of them can't afford to listen
Got the other half in the club real tipping
Got the bill with me so she bout to get a millie
I just fuck her then i tell her go about your business

[Chorus]