400 Degrees Freestyle Lyrics
Yeah, been broke
But I ain't never been cheap
And when I ever touch the bag
It's never loud but discreet
I need the right amount of cheese
Before I leak out a seed
Cause I'ma spoil all my kids
And let 'em ride 'til they stink
Daughter in all pink
Son with them gold links
Super mommy Sweets
The kids in the backseat
Give 'em baby bottle drinks
While I'm runnin' a business meeting
If I ain't a Icy girl then what do you call that?
The hustle is all that
The body is all that
Slim thick chick with skin that got no tats
If I'm in the 3-0-5
Get blessed with that gold tan
If I'm in the 3-1-0
I'm finessin' a game plan
I'on see a hater
They just jealousy fans
They be wishin' they was me
In they fantasy land
Girl who is you foolin'
All that hate just love
Used to hate me all the time
And say wassup in clubs
Then you felt a lil threatened
Then you switched up cause
I'm that chick
If you ain't on yo shit
You get mad about yo life
And that's the shit that make you sick
See me and my niggas
We trained to go
I'on mess with dumb broads
And these fake famous hoes
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Bitches get a lump sum
And forget where they come from
If these haters had a flavor
It's tasting like dumdums
Niggas with tart cum
Sewers and fresh plum
Niggas mad at me
Be made at your income
Shiiiid, 400 degrees
But I'm the icy wifey
So I'm bringing the breeze
If you feelin' the freeze
I ain't here to just tease
The fingers lookin' for me
Cause I got what they need
