Nasty C – No More Lyrics
Read ‘No More Lyrics,’ by Nasty C below;
Hook
I used to be a bum ass nigga
I’m not no more
I used to be a quitter
I’m not no more
So damn bitter
I’m not no more
Not no more
Oh no no
6 in the morning I get up
For guap-pa-pa
Luxury cars and the gararage
Christian Dior for the Fa-Fa-Ra-Fah, Fah, Fah
Make the numbers go
Ratatatatata
Ratatatatata
Ratatatatata
Ra
I
Make the numbers go
Ratatatatata
Ratatatatata
Ratatatatata
Ra
Verse 1
Eish, I was even broke in December
Couldn’t bring girls to the crib if they see the way I live
Then I might just be a virgin forever
But me I was clever
Used to tell the hoes that my friend was my brother
But his mother was my step one
‘Cause his place was better
No tape on the windows
The couch real leather
And they had a helper
How come I don’t see you on the wall they would ask me
You’re the only one that’s not tall in your family
God blessed me in other places and frankly
There’s nothing I can do about the cards that he hands me
So skip the chatter
I’ve got something to show you
Climb into this bed let me bend and fold you
You already know how that story ends
I’m so much better than the old me when
Hook
I used to be a bum ass nigga
I’m not no more
Used to be a quitter
I’m not no more
So damn bitter
I’m not no more
Not no more
Oh no no
6 in the morning I get up
For guap-pa-pa
Luxury cars and the gararage
Christian Dior for the Fa-Fa-Ra-Fah, Fah, Fah
Make the numbers go
Ratatatatata
Ratatatatata
Ratatatatata
Ra
I
Make the numbers go
Ratatatatata
Ratatatatata
Ratatatatata
(Yeah) Ra
Verse 2
I’m kinda up right now
And it’s a blessing man
You couldn’t make me feel like
I’m any less a man
You see the passport tatted like a Mexican
How could you second-guess the man?
Bitch you must be on coke tryna skip me
Like a Pepsi can
I got songs for a nigga at his desk to jam
For a nigga with a rope around his neck to jam
That’s why they ride for me like a Manchester fan
For the bitches that just wanna pop X and dance
Saving up and going to get their chest enhanced
I even got the slow jam heaters for my cheaters
Who wanna call their girls up for a second chance
But fuck the chatter
I’ve got something to show you
So when I get my Grammy I can tell you I told you
And only God knows how my story ends
But I’m so much better than the old me when