Letra Complaining Kevin Gates

Complaining

Sweetheart, let me make you understand something
These bitch always gonna have a problem with you
For one you bad as a motherfucker
For two, your nigga having money

Keke and Te-te got Dre-dre and Ri-ri
My theme song on repeat, Mesha she a rider
Throwing dick inside her
No Baby Phat no BeBe
Isabel Marant, Emilio Pucci, Christian Louis Vuitton
Sara operated careless
Mouth on me she do it wrong
Tonya get on top of me, probably while blowing strong
Excuse me, I meant to say A+
Fuck up her hair and makeup
In her deep, she go to sleep
And when I leave she don't wake up

When I walk in with that bag
She know it's gon' be raining
Spending all that paper, it's a damn shame ain't it?
My little mama bad
Outfit look like it's painted
When I threw that money up them hoes fainted
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
I buy her what she want and the world can't understand it
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
My ho ain't complaining

Cocaine Aston Martin, I just bought that (I been scared to drive it)
My P.O. find out he probably ask me "how the fuck you buy it?"
Pull into the club with a bag full of bands (scurr) and a Maserati
Pants sagging, got it raining, her body painted
All the bitches turn they nose up, no my ho she's not complaining
Spend a night with me vacation, taken, not gonna make you famous
Head back to my trap, pull up in that Mercedes
Say she feel it in her stomach, grip her waist, she making faces

When I walk in with that bag
She know it's gon' be raining
Spending all that paper, it's a damn shame ain't it?
My little mama bad
Outfit look like it's painted
When I threw that money up them hoes fainted
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
I buy her what she want and the world can't understand it
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
My ho ain't complaining

Ice melting, champagne bottles
White sand 'round, Baywatch her
Bad bitches in two-pieces your dame out here, wanna mainline her
I stay grinding, I can't stop it, need eight commas, my strap on me
No seat-belt, make it spray, M-I-A, yeah heat felt
Big nuts with a lot of heart and a foreign car with a foreign broad
No rest and relaxation all my keys probably say "R&R"
Back to jail with this pistol then that might make me a falling star

When I walk in with that bag
She know it's gon' be raining
Spending all that paper, it's a damn shame ain't it?
My little mama bad
Outfit look like it's painted
When I threw that money up them hoes fainted
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
I buy her what she want and the world can't understand it
Them bitches mad, but my ho ain't complaining
My ho ain't complaining