Nasty C Lyrics
Below are the lyrics to “No More,” Nasty C’s latest song. Sing along and enjoy. No More was a joint effort of Just Dan, Donnie Katana, and DoppyBeatz as co-producers.
No More Cover
Nasty C – No More Lyrics
ChorusI used to be a bum ass nigga, I’m not no moreI used to be a quitter, I’m not no moreSo damn bitter, I’m not no moreNot no more, oh no-no
Post-Chorus6 in the morning I get up, for guap-pa-paLuxury cars and the gara-rageChristian Dior for the fa-fa-ra-fah, fah, fahMake the numbers goRata-tata-tata-tataRata-tata-tata-tataRata-tata-tata-tata, raI, make the numbers goRata-tata-tata-tataRata-tata-tata-tataRata-tata-tata-tata, ra (I, I)
Verse 1Eish, I was even broke in DecemberCouldn’t bring girls to the cribIf they see the way I live then I might just be a virgin foreverBut me I was cleverUsed to tell the hoes that my friend was My brother but his mother was my step one’Cause his place was betterNo tape on the windowsThe couch real leatherAnd they had a helper”How come I don’t see you on the wall?” they would ask me”You’re the only one that’s not tall in your family?”God blessed me in other placesAnd frankly there’s nothinG I can do about the cards that he hands meSo skip the chatter, I got somethinG to show youClimb into this bed, let me bend and fold youYou already know how that story endsI’m so much better than the old me when
ChorusI used to be a bum ass nigga, I’m not no moreI used to be a quitter, I’m not no moreSo damn bitter, I’m not no moreNot no more, oh no-no
Post-Chorus6 in the morninG I get up, for guap-pa-paLuxury cars and the gara-rageChristian Dior for the fa-fa-ra-fah, fah, fahMake the numbers go:Rata-tata-tata-tataRata-tata-tata-tataRata-tata-tata-tata, raI, make the numbers goRata-tata-tata-tataRata-tata-tata-tataRata-tata-tata-tata, (Yeah) ra (I, I)
Verse 2I’m kinda up right now and it’s a blessing manYou couldn’t make me feel like I’m any less a manYou see the passport tatted like a MexicanHow could you second guess the man?Bitch, you must be on coke tryna skip me like a Pepsi canI got songs for a nigga at his desk to jamFor a nigga with a rope around his neck to jamThat’s why they ride for me like a Manchester fanFor the bitches that just wanna pop X and danceSaving up to get their chest enhancedI even got the slow jam heaters for my cheatersWho just wanna call their girl for a second chanceBut, fuck the chatter I got something to show youSo when I get my Grammy I can tell you “I told you”And only God knows how my story endsBut I’m so much better than the old me when
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