Tekst Utworu

Yeah, yeah, yeah If I want brand new Raf, I'ma hit up Raf If I want Gucci bags (What?), I'ma hit Alessandro ass (What?) If I want Louis bags (What?), I'm callin' Virgil fast (Yeah) Kim Jones, let me pass, you payin' too much tax Rick Owens on my racks (Racks), Rick Owens on my racks Rick Owens on my back 'cause Lamy threw me that Loewe on my tag, thank you Johnny, Kate, and Mack (Mack) Secure the diamonds on me, homie, I ain't takin' that (That) Secure the bag for me, for me, for me, for me (Me) I got the cash, It's stuffed in the stash that you'll never see, like geez They 'bout to spray, in the broad day, Febreze, Febreze, Febreeze (Febreze) My niggas is blessed and we ain't even sneezed Capisce, like geez, Louise Yeah, runnin' and runnin' and runnin' away It's like we in Biscayne Keys (Keys) Rollin' around in the wings (Wings) When she get the keys, she say pretty please (Yeah, yeah) MSFTS put on a fleece (Fleece) I had to read the release (Uh) I had to re-up the lease (Lease, uh) Not gonna deal with you niggas, I needed some peace (Some peace) You wasn't fuckin' with me (Me) But then Flacko told me everybody would see and they did Water on me, got me feelin' like I'm drownin' Lookin' for my lake, I think I just found it The fuckin' audacity To take a jab or a stab at me (What?) The feelin' of feelin' a masterpiece (Huh) Gold grill in, I'm Master P (Yeah) On TV like half a week (Yeah) If I step out of my buildin' this Shit'll start feelin' like fashion week (Yeah) With a new flow for the after-mes (Yeah) Now tell them run to the factory (Hey) Runnin' the factory (Yeah, yeah) My new girl is mad at me (Yeah, yeah) She is an actress, cheese, so I call her "Her Majesty" (Yeah, yeah) She all in the magazines (Woah, woah) I would be mad too (Mad), all of this accuracy (Yeah) Sorry, I had to Dance in the club for me, for me, for me, for me She just pullin' up but please believe she finna leave Flacko say you a C, LV bag, gotta stuff a hundred G's, yeah (Woo) Motocross patch on her jeans, You niggas still wanna run with t-shirts (Yeah) Find me a baby in Paris, I'm callin' her parents to get her a Visa I'm in and out of the country, No matter what country, I throw them a lease, yeah Yeah, we just pull up and blow out his speakers (Yeah) Meet with the gangsters and the tweakers The G's who run from police (Huh) My homies who home on release, yeah Yeah, thanks to Kim K, they roamin' the streets Shout outs to Obama and Meek (Uh) Came home and then bought a Patek (Yeah, uh, yeah) Like what do you mean? Don't roll up on me (Uh) The heat in the jeans, please, have the same energy when we eat Huh, bleep that shit They wakin' up out of they sleep (Woo) Secure the bag for me, for me, for me, for me I got the cash, it's stuffed in the stash, that you'll never see I'm ghost (Woo)
Writer(s): Justin Lewis Elwin, Michael Mule, Ahmad Balshe, Taiwo Hassan, Jaden Smith, Vic Mensa, Kehinde Hassan, Isaac De Boni Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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