Flirt - PRhyme

You ever have a bad bitch try to kick it with you in your Twitter DMs?

I have—been a statistic and demonstrated against

Wicked minds of the twisted bitches challengin' scrubs

I had a bitch expose me on MediaTakeOut

And after her 15 minutes of fame was up

She hit my phone back apologizin', askin', «Can we still fuck?»

Bitch, please, miss me—I'm paid as hell

I got the game locked—arcades in jail

I wish my uncle wouldn’t have died, he woulda loved to see this

Find you a nigga who do molly with a buzz and beat it

I’m 'bout to walk up in this restaurant, like the upper echelon

Is you comin'?

Guess you not—bitch, I’ll call you

I find it hi-larious when bad-ass bitches try to get your attention

Be lookin' like fish out of water, it be for no (no) reason

A chick’ll drop a pencil and go, «Oh, (oh) Jesus»

Just to bend down to get this shit to show (show) cleavage

Haha, why can’t y’all just ask a nigga for his number like we do y’all?

I’ll tell you, women don’t know how to flirt

And the ones that’s bad, they don’t even gotta work

That’s real shit

I see it all the time, anytime I shine

I’m just acknowledgin', but I’m not tryna play y’all

This is it (what?) Bad bitches can’t flirt good for shit

This is it (what?) They used to me comin' out the dick

Real quick (what?) like this is it, (what?)

This is it (what?) Woo!

(what?) Woo!

(what?) Woo!

Women don’t know how to flirt («That's right»)

You know how I come in

Talk to 'em, Chainz!

Okay, came up the street like a ladder—Aladdin

I bust through the hole like McFadden on Madden

A matter of fact, that’s a after effect

If the crime don’t fit, then I’m takin' it back

Now, fuckin' on this bitch who wear eye contacts

And I pulled a bitch off of eye contact

And I had the racks since she had a nice rack

Met her at Bergdorf, right by the nice racks

She said, «Should I get a shirt to match with the hat?

Or should I get the shoes that match with the slacks?»

Yeah, said it’s for her man, ain’t gotta be, they comin'

Had a lil' Uzi on me—DJ Drama

Never trust a bitch, and, yeah—I never will

Okay, sometimes—if she got sex appeal

I meant to say—I like to have sex and take some pills

I meant to say—I like to relax and make a mill'

I meant to say—I like to relax and make a meal

I mean, they both the same thing, but I ain’t talkin' grill

I ain’t talkin' dinner, I ain’t talkin' supper, this the bloodsucker

Met the bitch at FuddRucker off Amityville

She had a man on the real, he had his hand on the steel

Fucked in the Camry still, I shoulda passed on the real

Would have assist with her ass, I got more dimes than a pass

And if I knew your dude was crazy, I wouldn’t have let me smash

I see it all the time, anytime I shine

I’m just acknowledgin', but I’m not tryna play y’all

This is it (what?) Bad bitches can’t flirt good for shit

This is it (what?) They used to me comin' out the dick

Real quick (what?) like this is it, (what?)

This is it (what?) Woo!

(what?) Woo!

(what?) Woo!

Women don’t know how to flirt («That's right»)

Yo, Chainz, Royce

Remember PRhyme 1?

Remember when I said, «Word?

That’s how you feel up on this track?

Let a bitch come and try to shit on that!»

Yeah, and on that note;

move on to the next one!

Hahahahahahahahaha!