I pull a string on the lamp and shit darkens
I'm living in an elegant Moroccan apartment
Proletarian chicks sparking
Convo weak and I don't really care for her jargon
Balcony is windy, looking at the stars and
Alky on the Henny, woozy in the head, wobbling
Gucci pillow on the bed, while she giving nogging
Listening and tripping off the Maxwell album
Thinking I should leave to a European island
Bristol and Spain, bring a book about Stalin
Dinner serenaded with a violin
But shorty not qualified to be took to that kind of outing
Gotta be a fly bitch to hang around that fly shit
Fine dining Olive Garden
Nah bitch, Nas is In the real deal
Food spots on the constant
Pick the right wine, a Chianti to wash it
Lifestyle encompasses top-notch watches
Rolexes, synonymous shit I'm copping
Ask her has she been around duffle bags
Full of that fuck you cash
Get off the jet with me in heels, I'll cup your ass
Looking in my eyes saying "Nas, you're one lucky bastard"
Grip your clutch, you'll get finger fucked in the passenger
I hit the dutch, blow smoke out, music and laughter
See us in the coupe flying past ya
Esco, dress code, it changes
Harrods in England
Back to the star spangled labels in my closet hanging
Counting wonder in the Tundra
Get humbled or disgruntled when I come through, confront ya
Let nothing slide, sly remarks, you must wanna die
But you fronting, why? When we all know you pumpkin pie
When we in the bus we fly better shit than Emirates
To Dubai, to the Chi, I'm a crucial conflict
Heaven sent, cause a storm, typhoon flood you out
You are what a thug about, I'm a fucking juggernaut
Never sleep, never tire, keep a freak I tie up
Who don't speak, she quiet
So I can think, conspire
On my feet's a (?), and sometimes sneakers
Wear ties at the Setai Miami
Time-pieces are from Zurich
It's like I'm allergic, to Nonoxynol 9
Give it to you raw so you can feel it
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
