I'm That N*gga - Robb Bank$

Sure, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure

S.S. shit, nigga

Mind ya business

I’m gettin' head while the phone ring

I’m that nigga, I’m that nigga, I’m that nigga

Still that nigga, still that nigga, still that nigga

I been that nigga, I been that nigga, I been that nigga

Oh that’s yo' nigga?

Oh that’s yo' nigga?

Ho, fuck yo' nigga!

Suck my whole D, I get on that booty like a pirate

Fire red 911, take a moment of silence

Asked for a .5 or a .6 so broke might feel bad, might front you a whole

Y’all got the wrong nigga, you seen what happen at that A$AP show

Goddamn, I might need a shot of prometh' straight

I take your bitch on a date

Down south tone, all downed in the attire

Got a dunk, on deuces, and only Broward touch the tires

Got a 20-aged Malaysian babe, got a daughter by the month of May

Dooney snort a molly with her just so she stay comfortable

Yeah I said yo' government in my song

Well, ain’t that 'bout a bitch?

Ho niggas parting their lace fronts, talm' bout how they gon' split my wig, shit

(Y'all niggas pie!)

You a lie (lie!), and I understand why

You and your bitch been so comfy, and her pussy so fie

I’d be sleep too if I ain’t sell out and come out of hibernation 'fore a nigga

leap

Niggas put a dog face in they tee and try to act like they thoroughbred

I say turn the lights on, Savage looking for her

Corner store white tee, them bitches on the beach think I’m a fucking fashion

icon, bitch

Salt water tears when I tell a bitch my real name

But woe, no complaints from over there

If she saw it look like my dick grew for a hundred years, bitch!

Lip-bitin' animal

No fronts, need collateral for mine

And yo' bitch wish a nigga would, like she ask for the dick 3 times

And there ain’t no stems picked out mine, so baggage keeping count of the cake

Like birthday candles

Mix that yellow xan' with that green xan' got me feeling like a new nigga

And that new bitch ass that’s so thick

I don’t much know how to put my lips on her

It’s the wizard of the O-Z, call that white girl Dorothy

And I can’t believe I let you in my home, bitch

But Florida ain’t Kansas

But my booster sent you off, better not forget shit

Clickin' red bottom heels won’t get your ass back to my crib

Panamera;

talk about it, cause I bought it;

White Sprite

Ball with loose dollars, I color contrast like an artist, shit

Basquiat, Basquiat, say she want her son to look like Basquiat

Well, baby, let’s repopulate

Only things that I don’t have, is that it can’t be gift wrapped, shit

'Port burning, Agent Provocateur showing

Tone of the skin, Alaskan, so she don’t get wet, she start snowing

And she a bad bitch, hit the pole like Edie Sedgewick

Mod bitches only come in black in white

But I put some color in her beverage

Still got my Gunrise boo and she only smoke bouquet

If I buy her that Miu Miu, maybe she’ll raise my Mewtwo