GOMF Lyrics by Latto
(Feat. GloRilla)
She ain’t even all that, she ain’t even like that
Ain’t her mama white?
That nigga don’t even like her
That nigga don’t even claim her
She ain’t even from Atlanta
Man, that ho is from Ohio
How many BBLs is she gonna get?
I heard her nigga write for her
Get off my jock, bitch, you know how I rock, bitch
Body and the face tea, ain’t nothin’ else to clock, bitch
Know I want your head when I whip it out and cock, bitch (Fah-fah-fah)
Latto is you pregnant?
Had to hit ’em with that ya, trick
Move, talm’ ’bout side bitch
Who? They gon’ have to pull it out they ass
And put they mouth around it too
Got two-hundred on the dash, two-hundred in my pockets too
I ain’t had to be a WAG, I got a baller and he shoot (Baow-baow-baow-baow)
Thicker than my accent
Bet he want a lap dance
Thicker than a track meet
Even in some track pants
Ghost a nigga if he ain’t a
Eat him just like Pac-Man
Latto hit the club, they gon’ greet her with a back end
Get out my face
Get out my face, ho (Yeah)
You in my way (You in my way)
Get out the way, ho (Yeah)
Good with the face card
Still got a bankroll (Yeah)
Until you have a son, huh
And then I’m fake, bro (Yeah)
Get out my face, ho (Ho)
Beggin’ for change, ho (Yeah)
Get you a hustle and get that pussy out your face, yo (Yeah)
You coulda been anything, it’s a million ways to get paid, ho (Yeah)
But you ain’t shit but a freaky stud that’s laced, ho
Why she be lyin’ like be in the gym
We know thats a BBL (Haha)
Yo, shy she keep touching her face?
You ain’t ugly, you just broke
They say she don’t take of her family
I would never (Right)
She need her own style
Always tryin’ to copy the next bitch
I mind my business, make my money
Somehow that get bitches pissed
Always be trending topic, literally
I don’t do shit but exist
All I did was glow up on it
Why you mad I’m poppin’ shit?
Beat up once, and can’t do it
Telling me what I should’ve did
Waggin’ in high fashion
Different brackets
Y’all can keep the wrapper
Bring the real bitches back
I hate these fake hoes with a passion
Google said my name worth what?
That’s how much I pay in taxes
Three things out
[?] is no money, fuck second chances
Told Brandon I’ma have his son
It’s time we leave it in (Next time)
I’m out of time playin’ with my Rolls on FaceTime and I’m sick (Oh)
I won’t clear up shit, I feel like Tommy, bitch, believe (Bitch, believe)
Them [?] still pokin’ a bird, one, two, three, release ’em
Get out my face
Get out my face, ho (Yeah)
You in my way (You in my way)
Get out the way, ho (Yeah)
Good with the face card
Still got a bankroll (Yeah)
Until you have a son, huh
And then I’m fake, bro (Yeah)
Get out my face, ho (Ho)
Beggin’ for change, ho (Yeah)
Get you a hustle and get that pussy out your face, yo (Yeah)
You coulda been anything, it’s a million ways to get paid, ho (Yeah)
But you ain’t shit but a freaky stud that’s laced, ho