Lyrics:

Holiday season, ay

Holiday season

Trapaholics, aha, yeah, yeah, listen, ok
I'm a dime, you a nickel-ette, light skinned-ed pigment
Write my own shit, ya'll copyrighting infringement
I eat these rap bitches, somebody get me a dinner mint
Pussy make him tattoo my name, up on his ligament
Fuck wrong with them, my nerves they keep tweakin'
Tell them I'm the chief, I'm runnin' with Mohikans
Tell them this is church, and tell them I am the deacon
Tell them that I'm Black, Chinese and Butter Pecan
Pull up in the Range, I'm givin' them more reasons
Hit up Lil' Wayne, while I'm in the 4 Seasons
Tell Gudda, Mack and Kid Kid I'm here
I'm colder than a cough, I'm wetter than swimwear
Got all these little bitches, g-gettin' p-pink hair
I'm pretty and I'm fly, I'm up in the pink Lear
I needed an assistant, I got me a pink queer
Decorated his office, with flowers and pink chairs (chairs)
Listen... Nicki Minaj, Nicki Lewinksy... The Mistress where the fuck is the president? Young Money