Cardi B Imaginary Playerz

Yeah It's the motherfuckin' Brimcess, you heard? The shit these bitches be braggin' about is like Shit I was doin' in like 2016, type shit Like (Why these bitches hatin'?) You bitches don't even know the difference between vintage and archive, like (Why these bitches hatin'?) Yeah, look Now I spit that other shit, pretty motherfucker shit Cardi B, every song platinum, I'm not the other bitch Whatever you was gon' pay hеr, you gotta double it Gloryhole, bitches don't know who thеy fuckin' with Their money my stocks and share money Your booking fee is my makeup and hair money Bitches say I think I'm the shit, and do (And do), and did Just know you bitches can't live I got the hottest shit, hop out, poppin' it They say I walk around lookin' like a compliment Shut up, stop whinin', Cardi still shinin' Hoes kept complainin', so I copped more diamonds And more archive, vintage couture on me I got more Gaultier than Jean probably Summer with cheeks out, Winter, it's minks out I buy grown man watches and make 'em take links out, bitch (Why these bitches hatin'?) I mean It's really easy for me to talk this shit, 'cause I live this shit (Why these bitches hatin'?) I just gotta make it rhyme Bitches, I leave 'em all fucked, fists be balled up Y'all hoes look cheap, that shit don't cost much I'm a star, but I'll smack you, don't get starstruck Patience lookin' at me like, "Cardi, what the fuck?" Striped like Thom Brown, these bitches should calm down Quicker they lift up, the quicker they fall down Poor thing, Twitter must be gassin' them heavy Makin' them jump in the rim with the Brim before they ready I seen whole fan pages, make avatar changes All that old love go to new fan bases Now your fifteen up, you already out of time I'm a legend, they gon' hang my heels from the power lines (Why these bitches hatin'?) All I'm sayin' is God forbid some shit happened to the Brim Put my motherfuckin' heels in Nelson Ave (Why these bitches hatin'?) Bronx legend, you heard? My flop and your flop is not the same If you did my numbers, y'all would pop champagne If I did your numbers, I would hop out a plane Suicide if I fall from the distance you and I They gotta be kidding Whatever they smokin' on, it gotta be hitting The bag you just posted been in the closet sittin' The car he just got you, bow tie and a ribbon Been in my driveway not gettin' driven Y'all some bench bitches, ho, y'all just started startin' Birthday at Carbone, to me, that's Olive Garden A nigga couldn't take me there, that's y'all department Tasteless, basic I'm a Waldorf penthouse every state, bitch 2016, I had Fashion Nova lit Ask Rich, y'all need your ass whipped What the fuck you mean bitch is oudressin' me? (Why these bitches hatin'?) How that bitch outdressin' me with my fuckin' vibe, bitch? (Why these bitches hatin'?) Duh, I dressed that bitch Fixin' y'all mouth to talk fashion with me I'm the one who showed these girls what fashion could be The first rap bitch on the cover of Vogue But somehow y'all passed me, I suppose? I know your type, all bold and all cap For the love of hip hop, y'all knew me before that These bitches is nuts, bitches is ball sacks And behind my back, bitches be tight like bra straps, ayy