Lyrics Marge Simpson – CupcakKe
Big pimpin’
Big, big pimpin’
Big pimpin’
Walk up in the back, limpin’
Big pimpin’
Big, big pimpin’
Money stack up so tall
Look like the hair on Marge Simpson
Marge Simpson, Ma-Ma Marge Simpson
Marge Simpson, you can call me Marge Simpson
Big pimpin’, get the money then dip
Money stack up so tall
Look like the hair on Marge Simpson
Man, why you keep textin’ my phone
Leave me alone
Boy, I do not want your deeck
I see that n**ga, he thirsty as f**k
I ain’t givin’ him s**t
Better swallow his spit
All that lurkin’ on my motherf**kin’ page
‘Till it’s oops, I ain’t mean to like that pic
Took her to Victoria Secrets, and bought him some bras
Since he like to act like a b**ch
I got a type, and it ain’t you
I like them n**gas who spendin’ that cash
I like them fat Homer Simpson a*s n**gas
That feed me, they fat and they sass
B**ch, I’m expensive, don’t bring me nothin’ on the floor
I want everything locked in a glass
Then we f**kin’ fast, take him to the back of the store
Then he bustin’ a hole in my mask
Now give me your money, dummy
I don’t wanna hear what you cannot afford
We back in his car, he complaining how I spent all his money
I said, King, pass me the aux cord
I don’t wanna hear that s**t, be near that s**t
What the f**k do you n**gas be thinkin’
Gotta wear a sleep mask, every time I f**k him
so I won’t see him cum quicker than I be blinkin’
Big pimpin’
Big, big pimpin’
Big pimpin’
Walk up in the back, limpin’
Big pimpin’
Big, big pimpin’
Money stack up so tall
Look like the hair on Marge Simpson
Marge Simpson, Ma-Ma Marge Simpson
Marge Simpson, you can call me Marge Simpson
Big pimpin’, get the money then dip
Money stack up so tall
Look like the hair on Marge Simpson
I don’t want your man, darling
Even though I could take him so damn quick
I done set a .., his sack five times
Had to hit him ball meter, whole damn Saks Fifth
Feeling like Taylor when I get this money
‘Cause I spend it so, so swift
‘Cause I only check for n**gas with big bags
Like an airport trip
You know my aesthetic, we could do credit
Baby, make sure the receipt get shredded
‘Cause he got a girl at home, and if she come for me
Somebody come for her, the paramedics
Yeah, I said it, text it, DeJ Loaf
N**ga better know to come full breaded
Put a stack of money on the bottom of my sneakers
That’s how a real b**ch walk up in wedges
And he could die today, day or tomorrow
I won’t even give no f**ks
I just hope nobody throw him a funeral
‘Cause I could use those bucks
I’ma make him turn into his grave
I ain’t givin’ no apologies
If anything, when I buy the Prada with his cards
That motherf**ker better be proud of me
That motherf**ker better be proud of me
Ooh, ooh, yeah, yeah
That motherf**ker better be proud of me…
➤ Written by CupcakKe
CupcakKe | 2021
