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Correct Bollywood Chick Lyrics
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Correct Bollywood Chick
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[Chorus:] I gotta Bollywood Chick, she says she wants to know what Hollywood is, I gotta Bollywood chick, I love the way she makes her hips do a twist, Yeah I gotta hip hop chick her favorite rappers Pac and Big, I gotta hip hop chick ask her who's better and she say they both the shit. She s*** [x4] She Workin [x4] [Verse 1:] I'm a slum dog millionaire Thug livin', out of prison Pistols in the Air When the Remi's in the system Ain't no tellin if Nyce goin diss em, hit em that flip em Activate her mouth talking down about the pimpin Move to the next chick and continue my mission Money over bitches, money over snitches Money over this over that If you rather bring it back Shawty sayin Nyce gimme one more chance I'm like I'm not tryna be you man The things these fellas do for romance You can hate but you can't stop my swag [Chorus:] [Verse 2:] Hey Tecca Nina I gotta Bollywood dame ya Gotta have gouda moola queso gotta have change ta Get her to give you Poonana Nina gets brain cause my money game is insane I'm a hip hop hall of Famer Nina gots grills so the bitches wanna know me Wrists don't chill lookin betta than your rollie Bollywood bitch want the Louis and the Chloe And that's what she'll get after she do me and blow me Black, white and Indian she'll take from any man But when we are finished she then begin to spend to get me in Cause my dicks a tight fit fight with the nice split Tech Nina I do that Bollywood chick likes this [Chorus:] [Verse 3:] I met this fly young hip chick Like pink lipstick She said I like a bad man I said come get me Known to ball I said I got it all More writing on my body than a bathroom stall Getting cash by the fist full Pinky and my wrist glow First I took her shopping and then to the disco Windy, Windy, grind on the stallian Double D Cup fuck with the champion Yes I am that dude I said when God made you he was in a good mood She said I can't be contolled only unleashed I said you came to the right place baby I'm a beast Hop into my wip cops pulled me over Don't worry bout a thing shorty Mad Child sober She listen to my music and she loves every verse Now she's my bottom bitch got my piece in her purse Ya she kept the trap shut when police went to work If anyone disrespect my boo they gettin murked [Chorus:] [Verse 4:] She called me from the deli In la on my cellai I'm flying in tommorow well I'm already ready The jewel on the third eye She jumped on the red eye We do the right thing my best friend like besta My little Indian queen The kind of glamour girl you can see in your dreams Moves like a gypsy Her groove got me tipsy Her nod of her hips Move a rod of concipse Very flexible studys the yoga Charming snake play with the cobra Can't slow down bangled tiger Jump a fever know why I like her [Chorus:]
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