Ain't I - Lizzo

Uh, uh, uh, I’m in the, I’m in the, I’m in the

I’m in the business of making music, that music business

The fitness, no one can witness cause I

I make that crack music (nigga!), uh

That real Black music (nigga!)

The only singles that I’m dropping are the ones

Flapping at the band of your white briefs

White boys please!

Can barely believe

I walk by as they hold they skeets by the seams of they jeans

C.R.E.A.M.

get the money, and run it to the hills y’all

Straight into my pocket, tired of the deals dog

Start my own label, keep the leaking sealed off

If you got a big mouth, then you might get peeled off

I’m the only fat-lipped bass, my flipper--vroom!--peel off

Eating flounder, Sebastian’s like some bath salts

Munching on his bones, looking at him like «It's yo' fault!»

«Look at what you made me do!

Yo, pass the hot sauce»

Looking at the back of Sophia Eris’s head

Eating a sammich (but we don’t got bread!)

Got a spider ass bite on my head, hangry

Feeling soupy, I brought my fuck in, yo I’m duckin'

Donald, Daffy, Howards, them cowards

Could never throw shots at a super with power

What was Russia without the czars?

What was Henry Ford without the cars?

My grandparents worked at Ford factory

So Henry is nothing without my family tree

And his slave-owning family needed Black blood still

So I think we need a spot up on Henry’s will

That would never be the case, in case you ain’t keeping up

I’m dishing out cases of that heavy bass

And them bassheads straight from the oppressor’s loins

Are giving us our «Free us!»

in hella coin

So bob your head crazy, bob your head crazy

Hip-hop, hip-hop turned crack from the era of crack babies

Bob your head crazy, bob your head crazy

Hip-hop, about to give oratories in stadiums and laboratories

Bob your head crazy, bob your head crazy

Hip-hop, hip-hop turned crack from the era of crack babies

Bob your head crazy, bob your head crazy

Hip-hop, about to give oratories--

(Big GRRRL, Small World!)

It don’t matter how deep yo' pockets go

They still get they fill, fingers scrape the bottom

It don’t matter how deep yo' soul is

They sho' is blinded by the light

It don’t matter how deep yo' pockets go

They still get they fill, fingers scrape the bottom

It don’t matter how deep yo' soul is

They sho' is blinded by the light!

(Crazy!)

Bob your head crazy, bob your head crazy

Hip-hop, hip-hop turned crack from the era of crack babies

Bob your head crazy, bob your head crazy

Hip-hop, about to give oratories in stadiums and laboratories

Bob your head crazy, bob your head crazy

Hip-hop, hip-hop turned crack from the era of crack babies

Bob your head crazy, bob your head crazy

Hip-hop, about to give oratories in stadiums and laboratories

And ain’t I a woman?

Ain’t I a woman?

Ain’t I a woman?!