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City Girls - Intro (#FREEJT) Lyrics

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City Girls - Intro (#FREEJT) Lyrics
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You have a pre-paid call
You will not be charged for this call
This call is from Jatavia-, an inmate at a federal prison
This call is being recorded and is subject to monitoring
Hang up to decline the call, or to accept, dial five now
If you wish to block any future calls of this nature, dial seven now
To decline this call, hang up
(Out the city)

Yeah, QC be the clique and we winnin' (QC)
Me and JT the realest bitches standing (free JT)
'Cause Lord knows that I miss her (I miss her)
But I'ma hold this shit down for my sister (hold it down)
These hoes just hate to give me credit (never)
It's all good, baby, I'll take the debit (haha)
My hair long, we could bet it (we could bet it)
Wig's off, but I got the most edges (lil' bitch)
The diamonds, the rings, and the watches, the bracelets
It happened overnight, so I understand the hatin'
Cosmopolitan, ballin' out of Vegas (ballin')
50K tab and Chanel on the latest (ow)
G-Wag' tinted and the seat sittin' fluffy (sheesh)
Check my DM, another rapper wanna f*ck me (ow)
Ap on my arm, matter fact I got a two (two)
Move my family out West like boss bitches do (boss bitch)
All my life I've been going against the odds (odds)
Tryna come up on me, better keep your job
A round of applause for the boss-ass bitches
Who made it on their own, and they shittin' on niggas
Girl, let that nigga know (let him know)
If he ain't breakin' bread, then he gotta go (gotta go)
Ride back to where you met him
These f*ck niggas want you to sweat 'em
They'll run you to the ground if you let 'em

Y'all niggas better get y'all checks up
And y'all hoes better get y'all bets up
Y'all can get y'all asses outta there
We gon' f*ck the game up when I come home
(This call is from a federal prison)
Period (talk that shit JT)
When I was doin' time, y'all hoes was doin' fine
But when I come home, it's over for y'all hoes
Get they ass, Miami

The City Girls be the hottest in the county (period)
Google me, bitch, yeah, I'm a real Brownlee (facts)
I came up under hustlers
To the street shit, a bitch been accustomed (been accustomed)
But lemme chill 'cause I'm gettin' in my feelings (in my feelings)
Can't let 'em sidetrack me from the millions (never)
I got a message for you internet bitches
Start worryin' 'bout your motherf*ckin' children
F*ck that rap shit, I'll fight a bitch, period (period)
Matter fact, I don't see a rap bitch, period (ow, ow)
I can count on my hands who really see the vision
Old City Girls verse, Pee ain't clearin' it (nah)
Wait 'til my sister come home (JT)
We gon' really get these motherf*ckers gone (get 'em gone)
We gon' really put these bitches in the zone (in the zone)
And show 'em that the City Girls really puttin' on, period (facts)

I wanna send a shoutout to all my City Girls and City Boys
Who be holdin' me the f*ck down through mail and CorrLinks
Get they ass, Miami, don't let up on them hoes
F*ck them hoes, them hoes ain't got no money
Them hoes need to worry about they motherf*ckin' kids
And worry about they baby daddies f*ckin'
F*ck, when I come home
Period, game over
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




You have a pre-paid call
You will not be charged for this call
This call is from Jatavia-, an inmate at a federal prison
This call is being recorded and is subject to monitoring
Hang up to decline the call, or to accept, dial five now
If you wish to block any future calls of this nature, dial seven now
To decline this call, hang up
(Out the city)

Yeah, QC be the clique and we winnin' (QC)
Me and JT the realest bitches standing (free JT)
'Cause Lord knows that I miss her (I miss her)
But I'ma hold this shit down for my sister (hold it down)
These hoes just hate to give me credit (never)
It's all good, baby, I'll take the debit (haha)
My hair long, we could bet it (we could bet it)
Wig's off, but I got the most edges (lil' bitch)
The diamonds, the rings, and the watches, the bracelets
It happened overnight, so I understand the hatin'
Cosmopolitan, ballin' out of Vegas (ballin')
50K tab and Chanel on the latest (ow)
G-Wag' tinted and the seat sittin' fluffy (sheesh)
Check my DM, another rapper wanna f*ck me (ow)
Ap on my arm, matter fact I got a two (two)
Move my family out West like boss bitches do (boss bitch)
All my life I've been going against the odds (odds)
Tryna come up on me, better keep your job
A round of applause for the boss-ass bitches
Who made it on their own, and they shittin' on niggas
Girl, let that nigga know (let him know)
If he ain't breakin' bread, then he gotta go (gotta go)
Ride back to where you met him
These f*ck niggas want you to sweat 'em
They'll run you to the ground if you let 'em

Y'all niggas better get y'all checks up
And y'all hoes better get y'all bets up
Y'all can get y'all asses outta there
We gon' f*ck the game up when I come home
(This call is from a federal prison)
Period (talk that shit JT)
When I was doin' time, y'all hoes was doin' fine
But when I come home, it's over for y'all hoes
Get they ass, Miami

The City Girls be the hottest in the county (period)
Google me, bitch, yeah, I'm a real Brownlee (facts)
I came up under hustlers
To the street shit, a bitch been accustomed (been accustomed)
But lemme chill 'cause I'm gettin' in my feelings (in my feelings)
Can't let 'em sidetrack me from the millions (never)
I got a message for you internet bitches
Start worryin' 'bout your motherf*ckin' children
F*ck that rap shit, I'll fight a bitch, period (period)
Matter fact, I don't see a rap bitch, period (ow, ow)
I can count on my hands who really see the vision
Old City Girls verse, Pee ain't clearin' it (nah)
Wait 'til my sister come home (JT)
We gon' really get these motherf*ckers gone (get 'em gone)
We gon' really put these bitches in the zone (in the zone)
And show 'em that the City Girls really puttin' on, period (facts)

I wanna send a shoutout to all my City Girls and City Boys
Who be holdin' me the f*ck down through mail and CorrLinks
Get they ass, Miami, don't let up on them hoes
F*ck them hoes, them hoes ain't got no money
Them hoes need to worry about they motherf*ckin' kids
And worry about they baby daddies f*ckin'
F*ck, when I come home
Period, game over
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Caresha Brownlee, Diamond Blue Smith, Kinta Cox, Zavier White
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, O/B/O DistroKid, Songtrust Ave
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