Thirty inch lace, so I sat on his face
I'm from the Loc's, I could tell you how the top feel
Quater mil on a new crib, red bottoms on blue heels
Pop bottles like New Years
If he high I'ma rob him, if he sweet I'ma gobble him
If he rich, I'ma slob him, if he broke, I'ma dodge him
In a room, full of flauging
He wanna fuck without his rubber on
Cuban link, but its color gone, so you know a bitch never wrong
You a broke ass fuck nigga, period!
And it ain't shit, you can tell me, I ain't hearing it
Bitch I want smoke, let's clear the air
My bitches on go! And we'll get there
Thirty on my bag, that's brick fair
Y'all hoes won't last, we gon' snap all year, yeah
Bitch I want smoke, let's clear the air
My bitches on go! And we'll get there
Thirty on my bag, that's brick fair
Y'all hoes won't last, we gon' snap all year, yeah
Let's clear the air, ain't shit sweet
Can't fuck me, suck me, or touch me, 'less ends meet
I been savage, been letting niggas have it
Take all a nigga got, and disappear like magic
I couldn't tell if he's was Haitian or Jamaican
But that nigga money long, so I had my niggas waiting
Took the money on vacation, on an island Venezuela
Magaritas with my bitches, living life, Caucasian
I gave a fuck about no hoe, who fell off, but still want smoke
Now that's a low blow, Yung Miami, that's my doll to, we on a roll
City Girls all year, y'all hoes know
Bitch I want smoke, let's clear the air
My bitches on go! And we'll get there
Thirty on my bag, that's brick fair
Y'all hoes won't last, we gon' snap all year, yeah
Bitch I want smoke, let's clear the air
My bitches on go! And we'll get there
Thirty on my bag, that's brick fair
Y'all hoes won't last, we gon' snap all year, yeah
Clear The Air Lyrics performed by City Girls are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Clear The Air Lyrics performed by City Girls is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD