YG – Baby Momma Lyrics

[Chorus]
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama

[Verse 1]
Always got somethin’ to say every time she don’t get away
Your whole life I done payed, with me, you had better days
All them bags I brought you, it’s a shame
How the fuck you find time to still complain?
Questionin’ why I’m comin’ home late, bitch, I put all the food on the plate
Yeah, she stay bitchin’
I’m like, “Shut the fuck up and clean the kitchen”
Love her from a distance
We talk crazy to each other, that’s part of our religion
Tellin’ your friends my business, you hella chatty
You let my daughter leave with her head nappy
I still do everythin’ to make you happy
You talk down on baby daddy

[Chorus]
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama

[Verse 2]
Always poppin’ up with new friends
That’s the type of shit I ain’t in
Tellin’ me how to spend my Ms
But you tellin’ me you want the new Benz
If I call you out your name, that’s a sin
If you touch me, bitch, that’s where it end
I’m tellin’ you we need a cleanse
I’m tellin’ you but you don’t comprehend
No good, burnt out from the hood
Moved you to the valley, like a real nigga should
My kids, good, how they live, good
They don’t eat pork, no pig, good
You supposed to be a nigga ribs, can’t no other nigga call dibs
If I’m payin’ for the crib, don’t have another nigga ’round my kids

[Chorus]
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama (I hate my baby mama, I hate my—)
I hate my baby mama

[Outro]
A-Always got somethin’ to say
(A-Always got somethin’ to say)
W-W-W-W-Whitney done had better days
(W-W-W-W-Whitney done had better days)
Q-Q-Que-Questionin’ why I’m comin’ home late
(Q-Q-Que-Questionin’ why I’m comin’ home late)
Bitch, I, Bitch, I put all the food on the plate
(Bitch, I, Bitch, I put all the food on the plate)
I hate my baby mama