OMG Lyrics – Iggy Azalea
Singer: Iggy Azalea
Title: OMG
Got, got it on smash
Think he ain’t got a chance with a b#tch like me, he ain’t rich enough, rich enough (no)
Calls need to stop he ain’t calling ’bout the guap, I ain’t picking up, picking up (brrp)
Y’all little hoes can’t sit by the pool, you ain’t thick enough, thick enough (go)
Weave so long and the p#ss# so wet, gon’ eat it up, beat it up
Oh My God, this sh#t different
Oh My God, Gucci slippers
Oh My God, my wrist vicious
Oh My God, might hurt yo feelings
Oh My God, this sh#t different
Oh My God, Gucci slippers
Oh My God, my wrist vicious
Oh My God, might hurt yo feelings
He said it tastes so good, I should just serve it on a plate
Bought that Wraith fresh off the lot, that b#tch ain’t even got no plates
I be looking at the stars while my p#ss# in his face
How the f#ck could I fall off? I get 250 just to play
They taking shots like, Plaxico
I’m riding waves in, Mexico
You b#tches gassed like, Texaco
Ain’t bout that bag, no hemaphone
Make sure your money match your mouth before you ever talk ’bout me
And if you want me to pull up
Just know I’ma need a feet (yah!)
Think he ain’t got a chance with a b#tch like me, he ain’t rich enough, rich enough (no)
Calls need to stop he ain’t calling ’bout the guap, I ain’t picking up, picking up (brrp)
Y’all little hoes can’t sit by the pool, you ain’t thick enough, thick enough (go)
Weave so long and the p#ss# so wet, gon’ eat it up, beat it up
Oh My God, this sh#t different
Oh My God, Gucci slippers
Oh My God, my wrist vicious
Oh My God, might hurt yo feelings
Oh My God, this sh#t different
Oh My God, Gucci slippers
Oh My God, my wrist vicious (yeah)
Oh My God, might hurt yo feelings (yeah)
Smoking on some Sticky Icky, need a b#tch like Iggy
Hit my phone up for quickee, no shake but I’m picky
Told that b#tch to ride my dick, she tried to pop a wheelie
Got so much #ss, on a traffic stop to see it
I be rolling tropical weed up
I be on a flight with my feet up
I get on the track and I eat it up
Get her in the bed, I beat it up
Bang, I get the b#tch and I change her
Got you bringing weed on the plane
Everywhere, they throwing up gang (hahahaha)
Think he ain’t got a chance with a b#tch like me, he ain’t rich enough, rich enough (ah, no)
Calls need to stop he ain’t calling ’bout the guap, I ain’t picking up, picking up (brrp)
Y’all little hoes can’t sit by the pool, you ain’t thick enough, thick enough (go)
Weave so long and the p#ss# so wet, gon’ eat it up, beat it up
Oh My God, this sh#t different
Oh My God, Gucci slippers
Oh My God, my wrist vicious
Oh My God, might hurt yo feelings
Oh My God, this sh#t different
Oh My God, Gucci slippers
Oh My God, my wrist vicious (yeah)
Oh My God, might hurt yo feelings (yeah)
Oh My God
Biggest b#tch ever!
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Lyrics Iggy Azalea – OMG
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