Big Mama Lyrics Latto
“Uh, okay (tuh)”
“You make it hard to talk about you (uh)
Like what I see, so I’m workin’ my move
You give me butterflies, you the one, fuck them other guys
At the start, I told a couple lies, but after that, I swear I really tried
Kept it real about my past niggas and I hope you never thinkin’ otherwise
Sometimes my mind takes me places and I wonder why
Why the fuck you got two phones? Nigga, what you doin’ on that other line?
Shit better be some money talk or some beef talk or another vibe
I don’t play about a side bitch and you heard me say about a hunnid times
Let me try and keep it sexy for you, we can talk about that another time
Love your ass in the worst way, let you hit it on the first date
What you gon’ do for Big Mama, for real?
What do I get for my birthday?
What do I get for my birthday?
What do I get for my birthday?
What do I get for my birthday?
You gotta put in some work today
Can you please do the most for me ’cause I’m sprung? (Sprung for you)
Can you give me some good dick ’til I cum? (Cum for you)
Then can you make me nut again, where’s your tongue? (Want for you)
Can I please get a pink Glock with a drum? (Pow, pow, pow)
If you can go another round then we ain’t done
I’ma fuck you ’til we see the sun
Drinkin’ out the bottle ’til this shit is done
On some Andre 3K shit, man, where the fuck are my panties at?
‘Cause I ain’t wearin’ none, I ain’t wearin’ none
I ain’t wearin’ none, I ain’t wearin’ none”
“Yeah, yeah
Big Mama, Big Mama, Big Mama
Bettin’ it wet when he call me Big- (yeah, COUPE)”
“Love when he call me Big Mama, yeah, that get the coochie wet
Ho better stick to TikTokin’, mean that with all disrespect
I was a virgin ‘fore I met you, baby, I don’t have a ex
Thought I told you bitches, I pull up in twenty Cadillacs (skrrt), yeah
Money long, cheetah thong, thick as hell, Georgia Dome
Sharin’ niggas, sharin’ clothes, I don’t know what y’all be on
Y’all go for shit I wouldn’t, I’m up three hunnid a bookin’
Bitch, I don’t play for the Nets
But I’m gon’ shoot shit up, ’bout Brooklyn (on God, brr)
Every time I’m cookin’ (cookin’), he know I put my foot in (foot in)
Leave yo’ bitch, get wit’ a boss, she can’t give you nothin’ but pussy (aw)
Pretty boy can’t take me home, Latto want an Al Capone
T-shirt with no panties on, fuck him to my favorite song, ah”
“Yeah (Big Mama, tuh), and don’t, yeah (Big Mama, yeah)
Bitches get (Big Mama, Big Mama, pow, pow, pow, pow)
Bitch, I’m Big Mama (pow, pow, pow, pow)
He call me Big Mama (pow)
He loves his Big Mama, Big Mama, Big Mama (yeah, pow, pow, tuh, pow-pow, yeah, yuh)
Big Mama, Big Mama, Big Mama (yeah, yuh, pow-pow, yeah, yuh, pow, pow, yeah, yuh, pow-pow)
Yeah, I get wet when he call me Big Mama (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Big Mama, Big Mama, Big Mama (yeah, pow, pow, tuh, pow-pow, yeah, yuh)
Big Mama, Big Mama, Big Mama (yeah, yuh, pow-pow, yeah, yuh, pow, pow, yeah, yuh, pow-pow)
Yeah, I get wet when he call me Big Mama (yeah, yeah, yeah)”
“You a fan of them?”
Credits
This Song is by Latto
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