Letter to My Ex's

(Intro)

Uh, They may not like me for this one

Fuck it, I got my pen and pad anyway

Mister Hood

Dear Mrs. Independent Hoes

Lookin' for ya like my lifetime depended on

You're a centerfold, every woman's inner goal

To meet in a nigga and his money long

Hey this a letter to my ex hoes

Before I start kiss my ass, X O's

Ahem, okay let's talk about a gold digger

Met her at a video shoot, go figure

Uh, well she was bad than a mothaflicker

Seen her lookin' got her number seen what's up wit her

Yeah, to make a long story short dawg

Couple days I'm sleepin, beatin the inner walls

Fell in love with it now we up in every mall

Bought her first Louis bag, she was so appalled

Not a scout but she love to watch a nigga ball

Bought her everything she had if I could recall

So couple months I got her moving in

That show money got me out of town

It got her trippin' when I'm not around

She was movin, trying to play a nigga out of bounds

Seen pictures of her and niggas I hate to found

Sad part was the bitch was trickin' off out of town

Uh, and I was too blind to see it sooner

Knew this bitch was kinda fishy like some old tuna

Took her clothes and threw em in to an old sewer

Damn, you shoulda' really seen her face then

Uh, she officially on my shit list

Uh, She pulled up on some shock shit

Uh, I'm talkin bags in the front trick

And that words to my common sense

See you ain't nothin' but a has been

I'm talking ashes to ashes

(Hook)

Uh, hey here's a letter to my ex's

You ain't nothin' but a has been

Uh, was only heavy when the cash in, yeah

You tried to play me like a band bitch

But I ain't trippin' cause you're pussy kinda average

Uh, her ego bigger than her ass is

Man, I'm so glad you the past tense

I used to love you with a passion

Sincerely yours, bitches

Uh, Dear Mrs. Independent hoes

Still searching like my lifetime depended on

You're a centerfold, every woman's inner goal

To meet a nigga and his money long

If you ain't got it then you can carry on

I'm talking like a Louis bag homes

No matter swagger, you're new cologne

I swear my last was a bee like a honeycomb

Uh, I thought we really woulda' last long

Shit, we were the worst to put your money on

Damn, in the beginning it was fairy tales

I'm talking make believe love coated in make believe

Uh, but that's until I started buying things

It was cool, now she started wantin wedding rings

Such a drama queen demanded all kinda things

Corrupted buy the light, she could only see the green

Wanted kids so I can be there by any means

Let her tell it we were something like a perfect team

Damn, had to cut it, she was out of order

Tryin to put me on blast like a bill boarder

Yeah, I called her momma tried to transport her

"Did you throw out her out dawg"

Yeah kinda sorta, she was mad so she filing a restraining order

Just to come and get her bags in the trash house

Swear the cops made me leave nearly passed out

Hey but I end up moving back in

Oh my momma, now she preggo with a set of twins

Pause, "That's a whole lot to settle in"

Uh, I guess the story really never ends

Well here's a letter to my ex then

I swear she used to be my best friend

Now she's a memory from back then

I know she prolly misses that fifth

Big sprees, and them motherfuckin plane trips

And she the last on my ex list

Nearly had a nigga stressed

Damn

(Interlude)

Somebody tell me what's love

What's your definition of love?

Is love buying one another different gifts

"Depending on the price tag."

Is that love?

I mean a nigga just looking for somebody genuine

To really ride for him

I'm feelin' like "fuck love,"

They don't give a damn about me anyway

Maybe relationships ain't for me

I guess that's why I'm writing this

Uh, hey here's a letter to my ex's

You ain't nothin' but a has been

Uh, was only heavy when the cash in, yeah

You tried to play me like a band bitch

But I ain't trippin' cause you're pussy kinda average

Uh, her ego bigger than her ass is

Man, I'm so glad you the past tense

I used to love you with a passion

Sincerely yours, bitches