The Boys

Album: Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded - The Re-Up (2012)
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  • Punch line queen, no boxer though
    Might pull up in a Porsche, no Boxster though
    Tell a hater, "yo, don't you got cocks to blow?"
    Tell them Kangaroo Nick, I'll box a ho
    Shoulda said I got five and a possible
    Don't go against Nicki, impossible
    I done came through with my wrist on popsicle
    Man, these hoes couldn't ball with a testicle, nigga

    Your lipstick stain smells like a cheap hotel
    Diamond watches and a gold chain
    Can't make my frown turn around

    The boys always spending all their money on love
    The boys always spending all their money on love

    They wanna touch it, taste it, see it, feel it
    Bone it, own it, yeah, yeah
    Dollar, dollar, paper, chase it
    Get that money, yeah, yeah

    You get high, fuck a bunch of girls
    And then cry on top of the world
    I hope you have the time of your life
    I hope I don't lose it tonight

    Bald head pussy got lots of juice
    Lopsided on the curb, so I block the coupes
    Watch the deuce
    Man I'm stingy with my kitty cat, daddy
    Did you ever really love me, Steebie?
    Rrr, pull up in the brrr
    Wrist on brrr, pussy on prrr-rrr
    I don't even brake when I'm backing up
    I'll swerve on a nigga if he acting up
    I done pushed more sixes than a play date
    Get money by the millions, fuck a day rate, nigga

    Your bossed up swag got 'em drooling like a new born babe
    The dollars in they eyes got 'em blinded by a Masquerade

    The Boys always spending all their money on love
    The Boys always spending all their money on love

    They wanna touch it, taste it, see it, feel it
    Bone it, own it, yeah, yeah
    Dollar, dollar, paper, chase it
    Get that money, yeah, yeah

    You get high, fuck a bunch of girls
    And then cry on top of the world
    I hope you have the time of your life
    I hope I don't lose it tonight

    I put all you bitches on to them good lace fronts
    Girls is my sons, carried them for eights months
    And yes, you're premature, Young Money to the core
    I might give you a ticket so you can come see the tour
    Oh, that's your new girl, that's that mid-grade
    Buck-fifty on your face with the switch blade
    Or the razor, yeah, the razor
    She my son, yeah, but I ain't raise her
    Goose me, hater, I get that loose leaf paper
    Them V-Necks be studded out, T-Rex be gutted out
    Told 'em Nicki be chilling them, I'mma keep hurting they feelings
    Because you'll never be Jordan, you couldn't even be Pippen
    You couldn't even be tripping, you can't afford a vacation
    I'm out in Haiti with Haitians, I go to Asia with Asians
    You mad dusty, you a lil' dusty possum
    I just come through with the six like my name was Blossom

    You get high, fuck a bunch of girls
    And then cry on top of the world
    I hope you have the time of your life
    I hope I don't lose it tonight

    You get high, fuck a bunch of girls
    And then cry on top of the world
    I hope you have the time of your life
    I hope I don't lose it tonight

    The boys always spending all their money on love
    The boys always spending all their money on love (uh-huh)
    The boys always spending all their money on love (Pretty Gang, Young Money)
    The boys always spending all their money on love (Cassie) Writer/s: Anjulie Persaud, Jean Baptiste Kouame, Jonas Jeberg, Michael Ojike McHenry, Onika Tanya Maraj
    Publisher: CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Downtown Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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