I called your bitch and told her forget it
In the club with a motherfuckin' stick, it is not an aesthetic
The baguetties pop out of the tints, shoutout to Elliot
I'm poppin' these pills like they Tylenol, but they never get rid of the headaches, let's get it
I'm ridin' around with a stallion
My chain bigger than a medallion
My name on her body, she tatted up
Forty-one bezel, the bad man, oh
Blue faces like Mystique and her ex cannot take it
Don't tell me you love me and fake it, that shit is irrelevant, just keep it player (Huh)
Told you, you don't gotta trade it, you can get the crocodile or the gator
Just hit up girl from the Hermès store, tell her, "I'ma see you later"
Bought the whole damn Bergdorf store, now I go to Kenz' and Ford for the flavor
Balenciaga your favorite, we can get Kanye to make it
This the lifestyle of a Bronx nigga from the west side, can't fake it
I was just there on the concrete jungle, made it out the pavement
Mama told me show no love, but do not be a hater
Like LeBron on the Lakers, cross it off, I'ma
Damn, when I pull out my bands
Paid ten thousand for these Chrome Hearts pants
Yeah, go 'head, act dead
Nigga, if it rained, we still slid
Me and my dogs gon' ride, together like Clifford, leave that bitch on read
'Round here, niggas don't dance, fuck that cha-cha slide, we just blam, blam (Blam)
Fuck around and get you blammed
Free my broski Montana and V-12 up out that can
That F&N don't jam, fuck around, go through you and your mans
See you when I land, out in Canada, yeah, I'm the man
Yeah, look, yeah, I'm the man
Yeah, look, yeah, I'm the man
My mama, she proud of me
Her baby a prodigy
And I'm rockin' Prada jeans
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
