Letra de No More - Nasty C

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

Six in the mornin' I get up, for guap-pa-pa

Luxury cars and the gara-rage

Christian Dior for the fa-fa-ra-fah, fah, fah

Make the numbers go:

Rata-tata-tata-tata

Rata-tata-tata-tata

Rata-tata-tata-tata, ra

I, make the numbers go

Rata-tata-tata-tata

Rata-tata-tata-tata

Rata-tata-tata-tata, ra (I, I)

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 nothin' I can do about the cards that he hands me

So skip the chatter, I got somethin' 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—

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

Six in the mornin' I get up, for guap-pa-pa

Luxury cars and the gara-rage

Christian Dior for the fa-fa-ra-fah, fah, fah

Make the numbers go:

Rata-tata-tata-tata

Rata-tata-tata-tata

Rata-tata-tata-tata, ra

I, make the numbers go

Rata-tata-tata-tata

Rata-tata-tata-tata

Rata-tata-tata-tata, (Yeah) ra (I, I)

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

Savin' up to go and get their chest enhanced

I even got the slow jam heaters for my cheaters

Who just wanna call their girl for a second chance

But, fuck the chatter I got somethin' 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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