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over 9 years ago
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Lyrics of I Sit on Ya Face by Nina Macc
I love a boss that ain′t scared to get his beard wet
Daddy fly, I wanna ride him like a learjet
Keep it real, I ain't going for no weird shit
Got him calling every second asking are you here yet?
He just like to hear me say i′m cummin'
He asking questions like whose is it when I fuck him
I tell him lies like it's yours and I love it
I′m just tryna get my nut and then it′s right back to hustling
Nina Macc, I'm just out here tryna function
You lusting and it′s nothing, you just better show me something
Remember suck don't lick, ooh don′t stop, right there that's it
I sit on ya face it taste just like candy
I sit on ya face it taste just like candy
I sit on ya face it taste just like candy
I sit on ya face it taste just like candy
It taste just like candy
I sit on ya face it taste just like candy
It taste just like candy
I sit on ya face it taste just like candy
Just like candy, just like candy
Just like, just like, just like candy
Just like candy, just like candy
I sit on ya face it taste just like candy
These hoes lost, they need a role model badly
I got more game than their so-called daddy
Champagne sipping, you niggas sip brandy
I sit on your face it tastes just like candy
I don′t suck dick, I swallow that shit
I don't lease whips I'm a balling-ass bitch
Let me give you game, I know you broke ho′s jokes
I don′t charge by the hour shit I charge by the stroke
Gentlemen it's the Emacc show
I want the luxury sedan, I ain′t no E-Class ho
These bum niggas tryna talk me out my chips
They ain't got nothing to offer, I don′t even want the dick
Soon as I lick my lips they wanna give me kiss
But they can kiss my asshole unless they kissing on this clit
Remember suck don't lick, ooh don′t stop, right there that's it
And I ain't tryna take your man bitch
Your man′s average, ain′t nothing but a fan, shit
You doing backflips, bending over backwards
For a nigga that just spent a couple racks with
A boss bitch and all I gave him was a lap dance
Got my legs wrapped around his stomach like The Lap-Band
I'm in his brain so he nicknamed me CAT Scan
Tapped out broke, now that′s what I call a tap dance
I'm running circles ′round these bitch niggas
He working hard while I'm working on his six figures
They got the nerve to try and label me a gold digger
But I′m a hustler, definition of a go-getter
They say the game's to be sold not told nigga
I been riding Benz since I was nineteen years old nigga
Remember suck don't lick, ooh don′t stop, right there that′s it
Writer(s): Tramayne Thompson, Andrea Mercado
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Last edit over 9 years ago
Memoirs of a Boss Bitch
Album • 2018 • 15 tracks
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🇮🇹 Made with love & passion in Italy 🌎 Enjoyed everywhere