I mean

Huh, yeah

Fuck with that

Yeah, I said, yo

First off, the shirt smell like Maison Francis Kurkdjian

Burned down Bergdorf, merging John

Flirting with some old broad in Dior Amour Sauvage

Ain't no Tracee Ellis Rosses up at Ross

Maybe Erewhon and Balenciaga Erewhon

What's that scent you wearing, is that Sua?

Is that Porsche you call your car or that arm farce you got on

You trying to trauma bond, crying inside the Prada store

Like a spoiled little mama's boy, rocking joggers like a tomboy

Aaliyah with the Tommy boxers on

**** thought they was watching me fall off for so long

They ran out of popcorn, sodas, nachos, and hot dogs (hot dogs) (hot dogs)

My shit hit different, I look better than bitches, say to her listen, beauty isn't gender-specific

The only thing feminine about me is the sentence by Clive Christian

Woman think that I was trying to find religion, but God body don't shop at True Religion

The truth was written in plain sight, it was hidden, the range nice, cocaine white, like pagan women

Never pay the hit, we some ladykillers

Mercedes 680 whippers, whipping like Ye in the kitchen, ****

Yeah, you bum ass **** ought to be ashamed of yourselves, man

And y'all fucked the Cubans up, too

Mirror, mirror on the wall, I wish you could talk

Dog, I put that shit on, I'm shitting where I want, like a dog

I should be getting walked

I piss on the floor in Dior and Louis Vuitton

I shit on the floor in Dejeun and Yves Saint Laurent

I do what the fuck I want in Isabel Marant

Then run up the lawn run and pull a stunt

My bitch suck a bullet out a-, huh

Ooh, you're looking so goo-

Ooh, you're looking so goo-

Ooh