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• Artiste: Ms Banks
• Titre: 4C
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Hair 4C but you can't foresee The icon Queen B I'm about to be Waist petite, pretty and my hair fuzzy They say they don't cah, they know they can't fuck with me Hair 4C but you can't foresee The icon Queen B I'm about to be Waist petite, pretty and my hair fuzzy They say they don't cah, they know they can't fuck with me Uhh, they get lip filler to get their lips bigger Who you tryna convince? You know who the blueprint Throw me out to the wolves, come back widda mink Poppin' out cah the real is going extinct Get like me, bitch, get like my people She going black, she going negro It's top bins, I don't even need a free throw Them gyal fly only when they hit Heathrow Stunting, I'll give it a miss I just be counting resid's Handling, minding my bizz They know what time it is Bitches bright and green like high vis Can't take my shine, it's in their eyelids Nah, they can't keep a good man down I just glow, Afro when I wear my crown I wear my pride outside and when nobody's around Big Banks ready, know that I'm the talk of the town, uhh Hair 4C but you can't foresee The icon Queen B I'm about to be Waist petite, pretty and my hair fuzzy They say they don't cah, they know they can't fuck with me Hair 4C but you can't foresee The icon Queen B I'm about to be Waist petite, pretty and my hair fuzzy They say they don't cah, they know they can't fuck with me Whine up your waistline, pon da bassline Whine up your waistline, pon da bassline If you don't take time, might just break spine He want my digits cah that face card don't decline Word play sublime, big vibes when I rhyme I make genres mine — rap, drill or grime Ain't as gritty as mine I got that stick icky cherry, that one of kind Uhh, who told bitches that they need a BBL just to sell? I'm stacking my riches up like shelves, oh well My home girl said, "Looking swell." Don't care if they give me hell, I will prevail They send with no mail, their egos so frail I just eat my kale and sip ginger ale, LOL Anything I do, these bitches wan' be on my tail Reheating my nachos when that shit is so stale Hair 4C but you can't foresee The icon Queen B I'm about to be Waist petite, pretty and my hair fuzzy They say they don't cah, they know they can't fuck with me Hair 4C but you can't foresee The icon Queen B I'm about to be Waist petite, pretty and my hair fuzzy They say they don't cah, they know they can't fuck with me Whine up your waistline, pon da bassline Whine up your waistline, pon da bassline If you don't take time, might just break spine He want my digits cah that face card don't decline Word play sublime, big vibes when I rhyme I make genres mine — rap, drill or grime Ain't as gritty as mine I got that stick icky cherry, that one of kind