"Ms. Whitman" lyrics
"Ms. Whitman"
Go, go, go, go
Head so good, she a honor roll
You thought I wasn't gonna come back for more you dumb, dirty bitch?
I done did the impossible
Go, go, go, go
Head so good, she a honor roll
She ride the dick like a carnival
I done did the impossible
Why this bitch obsessed with me? I just don't understand
You sucked the dick straight out my ass, who got the upper hand? (Haha)
I see why you ain't got no friends, you're Miss I'll-Fuck-Your-Man (Fuck your man)
Your stepmom burnt out, why she took her sister's second-hand? (Wow)
I know your route, you're reaching out, you need my name for clout (Clout)
That stanky pussy got you kicked out the Kardashian house (Ahahaha, stanky)
You hit my DM like, "No more diss songs," you tappin' out (Tappin' out)
I go rehab with this flow, bitch, I'm blackin' out (Blackin' out)
No, you not a model, give that flow right back to Latto (Back to Latto)
You ugly with no makeup, for some beats, you fuck on Jacob (Dirty whore)
How many times I got to tell these hoes I been that bitch? (Been that bitch)
My money long, shit on the floor, look like I print it, uh
Seven foreign cars, live on the Hills, my shit ain't rented
Keep my baby daddy name out yo' fuckin' mouth 'fore I Will Smith it (Bitch)
This ho belong all in the zoo, see, I don't understand (I don't understand)
She fucked on Tyga and killin' babies, I seen the sonogram (I seen it)
Flex like me, wanna be just like me
But I got plaques, on plaques, on plaques like Soulja Boy teeth
Dye your hair like me, weird bitch, not me
They fucked you back-to-back-to-back, that could never be me (Never be me)
Ain't speakin' facts, she make me laugh, I call her Marlon Wayans (Hahaha)
Them NFL boys ran a train on you, now you on the team (Damn)
How this bitch got a thousand bodies, ain't old enough to drink?
Jackboy fucked that pussy out in Florida, you fuck on anything (Jackboy)
I know about you
Just with little fame, it's easy to get that whore up out you (That whore about you)
Almost overdosed on a vape, nobody ain't call about you
I played a role to be your friend to beat the smoke out you (Dumb bitch)
Damn, Alabama, you a tramp, Alabama
Wave this Drac' out the window, God's plan, Alabama
Simon says stomp your feet, move your hands, Alabama
Bhabie says I'm up the street, like here I am, Alabama
You really dumb enough to think I'll tell you anything, you dumb, dirty ho
I wouldn't tell you what color socks I got on
Thanks to Cassidi for correcting these lyrics.
Writer(s): Unknown Writer, Tyrone William Griffin Jr., Dimitri Leslie Roger, Grant Dickinson, Danielle Bregoli
- AZLyrics
- B
- Bhad Bhabie Lyrics
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