[Intro:]
You have 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, and to accept, dial 5 now
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(Out the city)
[Verse 1: Yung Miami]
Yeah, QC be the clique and we winnin' (QC)
Me and JT the realest bitches in it (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 but we could bet it (We could bet it)
Wig off, bet 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
50K tab in Chanel on the latest
G-Wag' tinted and the seat sittin' fluffy
Check my DM, another rapper wanna fuck me
AP on my arm, matter fact, I got a two
Move my family out West like boss bitches do
All my life I've been going against the 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
If he ain't breakin' bread, then he gotta go
Right back to where you met him
These fuck niggas want you to sweat 'em
They'll run you to the ground if you let 'em.
[Interlude: JT]
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 ass outta there
We gon' fuck the game up when I come home
This call is from a federal prison
Period (Haha, 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.
[Verse 2: Yung Miami]
The City Girls be the hottest in the county
Google me, bitch, yeah, I'm a real Brownlee
I came up under hustlers
To the street shit, a bitch been accustomed
But let me chill 'cause I'm gettin' in my feelings
Can't let 'em sidetrack me from the millions (Neve)
I got a message for you internet bitches
Start worryin' 'bout your motherfuckin' children
Fuck that rap shit, I'll fight a bitch, period
Matter fact, I don't see a rap bitch, period
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 motherfuckers gone (Get 'em gone)
We gon' really put these bitches in they zone (In the zone)
And show 'em that the City Girls really puttin' on, period.
[Outro: JT & Yung Miami]
I wanna send a shoutout to all my City Girls and City Boys
Who be holdin' me the fuck down, through mail and CorrLinks
Get they ass, Miami, don't let up on them hoes
Fuck them hoes, them hoes ain't got no money
Them hoes need to worry about they motherfuckin' kids
And worry about they baby daddies fuckin'
Fuck, when I come home...
Period, game over.
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