Lyrics No Broke di*k by Jucee Froot

(Cook Gods)
He ain't talking' 'bout no motherf**kin' chicken

I ain't throwing ass unless I see some f**king money fall (Fall, fall, fall)
n***a, let me see them dollars fall
I ain't make my pu**y talk unless I see that money talk (Talk, talk, talk)
n***a, can you make your pockets talk?
I don't want no five, n***a, I want the six digits
Na-na the thermometer, b*t*h, I want them nine inches
I don't want no five, n***a, I want the six digits
Na-na the thermometer, b*t*h, I want them nine inches

Let's be specific (Let's be), I want Rollies and Bentleys (Uh-huh)
Don't forget 'bout my inches, pound to smoke with my b*t*hes
He done blew 'bout a ticket, to a boss, ain't no biggie (Uh-uh)
And he hop out with that glizzy, leave his d**k with a hickey
Ass so fat, so curvy (Curvy)
Make him nervous (Nervous)
Throw that ass on him on purpose (Purpose)
But I got that Birkin (That Birkin)
Heard ya little pu**y ain't working (Uh-uh) so he got me, sorry (Sorry)
Head real good, he learning (Learning)
Money long like journeys (Journeys)

And I'm off a pill (Pill)
I see them dollar signs, I need somethin' to feel (Ayy, what is that?)
You say you love me, n***a, show me that it's real (You love me)
f**k all that talkin', why you all up in my grill? (Why?)
You cut that check, throw me a bag, we got a deal

I ain't throwing ass unless I see some f**king money fall (Fall, fall, fall)
n***a, let me see them dollars fall
I ain't make my pu**y talk unless I see that money talk (Talk, talk, talk)
n***a, can you make your pockets talk?
I don't want no five, n***a, I want the six digits
Na-na the thermometer, b*t*h, I want them nine inches
I don't want no five, n***a, I want the six digits
Na-na the thermometer, b*t*h, I want them nine inches

Okay, you know that I'm a freak (Freak)
He know I ain't no good (No good)
He know I charge a fee (A fee)
He always got me booked (He comfortable)
He hit me with that D (Ooh)
I take it like a crook (Ooh)
But baby I'm a P (Ooh), it ain't no kissin' hoes (Huh?)
Got a lotta ass on me, look so soft, make you wanna grab, don't it? (Grab on it)
n***a wanna stand on it (Stand)
Don't go in your pocket unless you pullin' out a couple hundred (Where it's at?)
I done been there and done it
Them lil' hoes ain't talkin' no real money (No real money)
Talkin' 'bout fifty-hundred (Haha)
Get him lil' geekable, he'll never give a f**k

And I'm off a pill (Pill)
I see them dollar signs, I need somethin' to feel (Feel, yeah)
You say you love me, n***a, show me that it's real (Show me)
f**k all that talkin', why you all up in my grill? (Why?)
You cut that check, throw me a bag, we got a deal

I ain't throwing ass unless I see some f**king money fall (Fall, fall, fall)
n***a, let me see them dollars fall
I ain't make my pu**y talk unless I see that money talk (Talk, talk, talk)
n***a, can you make your pockets talk?
I don't want no five, n***a, I want the six digits
Na-na the thermometer, b*t*h, I want them nine inches
I don't want no five, n***a, I want the six digits
Na-na the thermometer, b*t*h, I want them nine inches

Uh-huh
Can't-can't be f**kin' with no broke n***a, I don't want no broke n***a d**k
I want a n***a that can d**k-d**k-d**k me good and can pay my rent