Latto, GloRilla – GOMF Lyrics

GOMF – Latto, GloRilla Lyrics

She ain’t even all that

She ain’t even like that, ain’t her mama white?

That nigga don’t even like her, that nigga don’t even claim her

She ain’t even from Atlanta

Man, that ho is from Ohio

How many BBLs is she gonna get?

I heard her nigga write for her

Get off my jock, bitch, you know how I rock, bitch

Body and the face tea, ain’t nothin’ else to clock, bitch

Know I want your head when I whip it out and cock, bitch (Fah-fah)

Latto, is you pregnant? Had to hit ‘em with that, “Ya, trick” (Ya)

Move, talkin’ ‘bout side bitch, who?

They gon’ pull it out they ass and put they mouth around it too

Got two hundred on the dash, two hundred in my pockets too (Skrrt)

I ain’t had to be a WAG, I got a baller and he shoot (Baow-baow-baow)

Thicker than my accent, bet he want a lap dance (Yeah)

Thicker than a track meet even in some track pants (Woah)

Ghost a nigga if he ain’t an eater just like Pac-Man (Yoom)

Latto hit the club, they gon’ greet her with a backend (Yup)

Get out my face, get out my face, ho (Yup)

You in my way (You in my way), get out the way, ho (Yup)

Good with the face card, still got a bankroll (Yup)

Until you ask for somethin’, huh, and then I’m fake, bro (Yup)

Get out my face, ho (Ho), beggin’ for change, ho (Yup)

Get you a hustle and get that pussy out your face, ho (Yup)

You coulda been anything, it’s a million ways to get paid, ho (Yup)

But you ain’t shit but a freaky stud that’s laced, ho

Why she be lyin’ like be in the gym? We know that’s a BBL (Haha)

Yo, why she keep touchin’ her face?

You ain’t ugly, you just broke

I heard she don’t take care of her family, I would never (Right)

She need her own style, she always tryna copy the next bitch (Tuh)

I mind my business, make my money, somehow that get bitches pissed

Always the trending topic literally, I don’t do shit but exist

All I did was glow up on ‘em, why you mad I’m poppin’ shit?

It be the ones that can’t do it tellin’ me what I should’ve did

WAG-in’ in high fashion, different brackets, y’all can keep the rappers

Bring the real bitches back, I hate these fake hoes with a passion

Google said my net worth what? That’s how much I paid in taxes

Three things I don’t give out is no money, fuck some second chances (Huh)

Told Brandon I’ma have his son next time he leave it in (I stamp it)

I’m out of town playin’ with my rose on FaceTime, lettin’ him see it (Uh)

I won’t clear up shit, I feel like Tommy, bitch, believe it (Bitch, believe it)

They constantly pokin’ the bear, one, two, three, release ‘em (Yup)

Get out my face, get out my face, ho (Yup)

You in my way (You in my way), get out the way, ho (Yup)

Good with the face card, still got a bankroll (Yup)

Until you ask for somethin’, huh, and then I’m fake, bro (Yup)

Get out my face, ho (Ho), beggin’ for change, ho (Yup)

Get you a hustle and get that pussy out your face, ho (Yup)

You coulda been anything, it’s a million ways to get paid, ho (Yup)

But you ain’t shit but a freaky stud that’s laced, ho