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Trina - Waist So Skinny Lyrics



Trina - Waist So Skinny Lyrics




[Intro:]
Trina I see ya fine ass
Ross...

[Chorus:]
Fresh out the salon
And I just got my hair done
Nigga's try to holler at me but I tell em' move along
Cause my waist so skinny n my wrist so chilly
And if u ain't puttin up a milli then you won't be f*ckin with me
Now put your grands up, gon put a grand on it
That won't be enough, atleast a hundred bands on it
Cause my waist so skinny n my wrist so chilly
And if u ain't puttin up a milli then you won't be f*ckin with me.

[Trina:]
I'm a boss bitch, I stunt first class
I got insurance on this boss ass
See I don't f*ck with ho's cause they sideways
I get this money by myself not in nine ways
I hate broke nigga's, they can't tell me shit
F*ck yo chargin baby momma and that little dick
I like big bags, I like real money
Pillow case stacked, bad prints big hundreds.

[Rick Ross:]
Pink bottle popper, yellow big shopper
Pull up to the club valle' my f*ckin helicopter
It's a nomineer, hustler of the year
See the baddest bitch... bring it here
Stackin paper like my name be Bo Philly
Pop the caddi in the living room [?]
She non stop, somebody lyin, this bitch a ten, yo bitch a five.

[Trina:]
I'm still the thickest bitch, in this rap shit
I-I don't f*ck with'ch ya'll, most you ho's counter fit
I call em glow lickers, they wanna lick my glow
I book seven nights a week you caught the metapho
I got a big safe, captain crunch berries
My diamonds look like you can eat em VVS cherries
See I'm a fly bitch, I'm makin new moves
And darin new fish to run up on this old school.
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




[Intro:]
Trina I see ya fine ass
Ross...

[Chorus:]
Fresh out the salon
And I just got my hair done
Nigga's try to holler at me but I tell em' move along
Cause my waist so skinny n my wrist so chilly
And if u ain't puttin up a milli then you won't be f*ckin with me
Now put your grands up, gon put a grand on it
That won't be enough, atleast a hundred bands on it
Cause my waist so skinny n my wrist so chilly
And if u ain't puttin up a milli then you won't be f*ckin with me.

[Trina:]
I'm a boss bitch, I stunt first class
I got insurance on this boss ass
See I don't f*ck with ho's cause they sideways
I get this money by myself not in nine ways
I hate broke nigga's, they can't tell me shit
F*ck yo chargin baby momma and that little dick
I like big bags, I like real money
Pillow case stacked, bad prints big hundreds.

[Rick Ross:]
Pink bottle popper, yellow big shopper
Pull up to the club valle' my f*ckin helicopter
It's a nomineer, hustler of the year
See the baddest bitch... bring it here
Stackin paper like my name be Bo Philly
Pop the caddi in the living room [?]
She non stop, somebody lyin, this bitch a ten, yo bitch a five.

[Trina:]
I'm still the thickest bitch, in this rap shit
I-I don't f*ck with'ch ya'll, most you ho's counter fit
I call em glow lickers, they wanna lick my glow
I book seven nights a week you caught the metapho
I got a big safe, captain crunch berries
My diamonds look like you can eat em VVS cherries
See I'm a fly bitch, I'm makin new moves
And darin new fish to run up on this old school.
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: REGINALD SAUNDERS, JULIAN BOOTHE, CHARLES DUNLAP, TORRANCE ESMOND, WILLIAM ROBERTS, KATRINA TAYLOR, LATASHA WILLIAMS, Theodore Lucas, Katrina Laverne Taylor, Josh Burke, Torrance Anton Esmond, William Leonard Roberts, JULLIAN ANDRES BOOTHE, REGINALD LOWELL SAUNDERS
Copyright: Lyrics © TUNECORE INC, Ultra Tunes, TuneCore Inc., Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., EMPIRE PUBLISHING

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