Song Details: To Be The Queen Of Rap You Gotta Sell Records Lyrics by Nicki Minaj & Gucci Mane. The song name is Make Love sung by Nicki Minaj & Gucci Mane.
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To Be The Queen Of Rap You Gotta Sell Records Lyrics
Uh, Gucci
Wanna make love, love, love
King of the skreets
And when these suckas see me, they should bow to my feet
And kiss the ground underneath
I look down at the beef
That shit childish to me
Two hundred thousand to see me
And it’s been sold out for weeks
Can’t brush shoulders with me
These stones in my choker are 2 karats apiece
Look like boulders to me
Damn, who colder than me?
You think he colder than me?
You more bipolar than me
You talkin’ crazy
I’m tryna book Beyoncé for my wedding day
I’m the type of n^^ga, spend a million on a wedding cake
N^^gas hate, but hesitate
They hate to see ya elevate
I just left out the gym
I’m ’bout to take a swim and meditate
Woo!
Now it’s time to celebrate
Ask me why I’m smilin’
I say, “‘Cause I make two mil’ a day”
And I might take your b^^ch and pay her bills
That’s how I feel today
And I just wanna f^^k
Don’t wanna chill, that’s how I feel today
I’m makin’ money like I’m makin’ sweet love
I wanna make love, love, love
She say the money make her wanna make love
Wanna make love, love, love, huh
Ay yo, ain’t talkin’ housewives, but I’m in the Porsche
First I’ma scorch her, then I’ma torch her
Then I’ma torture her, then I’ma off her
A million dollars for a show, they made their off-er
Go against Nicki, it’s gon’ cost ya
‘Cause now it’s f^^k ya, intercourse ya
I rep Queens where they listen to a bunch of Nas
I’m a yes and these b^^ches is a bunch of nahs
Tryin’ to win a gunfight with a bunch of knives
I win, get off the bench and give a bunch of fives
I don’t see her
B^^ch I’m the greatest, no Kendrick and no Sia
I’m the iPhone, you the Nokia
Everybody know you jealous, b^^ch it’s so clear
Tell them bum a^s b^^ches to play their role
She see my sexy a^s every time she scroll
I got it in the can, Dole
Your career gon’ be with Anna Nicole
Witcha dumba^s face
She ain’t eatin’ but I swear she got some bum a^s taste
Text her man like, “Dawg, how that bum a^s taste?”
Pay your rent! And stay in your bum a^s place
Oooohhh, oh you the qu-e-e-the queen of this here?
One platinum plaque, album flopped, b^^ch, where? (b^^ch, where?)
Hahaha, ahhhhh
I took two bars off just to laugh
You see, silly rabbit, to be the queen of rap
You gotta sell records, you gotta get plaques
S, plural like the S on my chest
Now sit your dumba^s down
You got an F on your test
I’m makin’ money like I’m makin’ sweet love
I wanna make love, love, love
She say the money make her wanna make love
Wanna make love, love, love, huh
I love to see the money stack up
Hope that we don’t ever, ever break up (up)
Wanna make love, love, love
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