Your flow is such a bore
Drinkin' a bottle of Henny through a straw
Bitch, you better stop that dialogue
'Fore I hit Carl and buy your catalogue
Sigh
How you fuck your mother man when she die?
How you go on Gayle King and can't cry?
Chile, bye
Big foot, but you still a small fry
Swearin' on your dead mother when you lie (ay, yo)

This lil beggin' whore talkin' 'bout Megan's law
For a free beat, you could hit Megan raw (ooh)
If you a ghost writer, Pardi in Megan's jaw (ooh)
Shots thrown, but I still ain't let Megan score (tell 'em)
Bad bitch, she like six foot (ooh), I call her Big Foot (brr)
The bitch fell off, I said, "Get up on your good foot"
Uh, still ain't topped Red Ruby (no, no, mm-mm)
Tryna steal the sauce, I said, "Get up out my cook book" (brr)
But really, I'm a sweetie pie
P-R-T-T-Y, but I'm P-E-T-T-Y
Um, why did you lie about your lipo?
Fuckin' you best friend man is crazy, you the type, though
You was lyin' to the Queen, then you went lyin' to the King, Gayle
That thirty-year-old tea, so stale
Kylie kicked you out and made you stumble to the car
Barbz, I need a good alcohol bar
Roman, wait, that was the bar
Like a body builder, I keep raisin' the bar
Fuck you get shot with no scar? (Brr)
This little piggy toxic, somebody adopt it
Shit'll get dark like chocolate
I'm 'bout to get up in your ass, bitch, clench (woo-ooh-ooh)
Mm, yeah, sorta like French
They got you all them Grammy's, but your flow's still a no
What a Fiasco, Lupe
Future made you pay
She wanna party with DaBaby while rubbin' on Tory troupe
I guess she needed Moneybaggs for them Trey Songz
She G-Eazy, Carl made her crawl for it
Yo, why the fuck you poke the Monsta?
Fuckin' with Nicki, this year, hoe, I'm comin' like a porn star
She just mad that no nigga ever loved her
No nigga gon' stand ten toes behind her
Is it my fault I got good vagin-er?
Why the fuck is you humpin' on a minor?
'Cause she was lyin' on your dead mama (ooh), on-on you dead mama (ah-ah-ah-ah)
Lyin' on you dead mama (ooh-ooh), on-on you dead mama
Lyin' on you dead mama (ooh-ooh), on-on you dead mama
Lyin' on you, lyin', lyin', lyin', on-on you dead mama (brr, ooh)

Now listen up, Big Foot
You know I got a lotta tea
I went easy on you
Um (glass fragment foot ass, bitch)
You know, whenever I meet a woman that would fuck her friend's man
(And let your friend talk about your ex-friend baby on the internet)
I know that (no, no) they have a very evil spirit
Um (where my prayer warriors at?)
I don't think you want the next installment of this song
I know it's the most attention you've ever gotten
One-flow hoe, but, uh, trust me
If you don't apologize to your mama in twenty-four hours
Shit gon' get uglier than KenBarbie, okay? Don't play
Um, and also, I'd like to say
To my supporters, I love you, may God bless you, you're amazing
Um, all the good-pussy gyal dem too, yes
But, I'm very serious
Ho, the things that you've lied about
Even pertaining to your mom
(You don't want them out, okay?)
Now, since you think it's funny to speak about people's families
(We'll all join in)
(We'll all play the reindeer games)
Soon as your new nose heals
And soon as your-
Well, let's leave that for the second installment, rrr Writer/s: Denzel Butler, Joshua Goods, Onika Maraj
Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind