Hashtags Songtext
von Ransom

All she needs, yeah

All she needs, yeah
All she needs, yeah
All she needs, yeah
All she needs, yeah
All she needs, yeah
All she needs, yeah

All she needs, yeah
All she needs, yeah
All she needs, yeah

All she needs, yeah
All she needs, yeah

Spent this whole time fightin′, I thought she would understand
She dancin' in the mirror while takin′ pics for the 'Gram
Won't take a pic for her man or put some fish in the pan


No time for kissin′ her kid, but she′ll blow a kiss in the cam (Mwah)
I ain't tryna discourage ya (Nah)
I was just hopin′ you'd get your courage up (Uh-huh)
Put some clothes on, queen, and cover up
Oh, I forgot, you waitin′ to be discovered, huh?
What the fuck is up? It's hashtags and
Retweets every moment that we speak
Book a flight for the fight and just pray that you get some free seats

Man, this woman′s knee deep, gotta get control of it
Can't show a bit of weakness without these niggas exposin' it
I ain′t gotta condone her shit (Nah)
But it′s time for us men to take on some ownership (Yeah)
Ain't nothin′ wrong with actin' a little grown and shit
If you respected her, would she take off her clothes to strip? (Hmm)
Prolly Soul twerkin′ fast for Birkin bags
Screamin', "I got the dough", splurgin′ cash
Her perfect ass fiendin' for shots of 'Trón
Not alone, she keep a flock, black and Puerto Rican thots

Swipe a couple pieces, spend two bands at the sneaker spot

They love Rihanna and Monica
See me as Trey Songz, but I′m more like a Dave Hollister

Huh, these niggas love to acknowledge her

Hashtag, "No thanks", you ain′t got any followers

So, um, huh, your number?
What? Oh, on your Instagram
Wow, what you mean how many followers I got? Heh
Wow, didn't know that was important


Kiss, kiss, you keep them fatties in your avi′, so you pimpin', right?
Hang the filter out, can help me see you in a different light
Crew well over thirty, passin′ out from blunts and dirty Sprites

Syrup sippin', flexin′, but you lookin' like the thirsty type

Barely workin' type, braggin′ ′bout the blocks that you be on
Typin' tough until they made you run it like a marathon, what you on?
Fishin′ for your vixens off the Insta'

And you wonder why all of your misses keep a mister?
Meanwhile, you coppin′ them Yeezy Boosts
Child still in his greasy boots
Big stitches for birthday wishes, the rest of the year, you're mute
Coppin′ Pips instead of Pampers, must be shittin' me
How you babysittin' if it′s yours? I guess you′re kiddin' me
Don′t consider me as the Keisha, more like the Foxy m.B
Ain't tryna bash on your action, your movies just wack to me
Won′t pay to pop any bottles, ain't clubbin′ unless it's free
Beggin' queens to lay down with ya, know that you cannot deliver, uh