Nasty C – No More (Full Lyrics

  • Nasty C No More Lyrics

    CHECKOUT THE MUSIC LYRICS FOR NO MORE BY NASTY C

    Chorus
    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

    Post-Chorus
    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

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    Chorus
    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

    Post-Chorus
    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

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