Lyrics

Hoodie on Jumpy tag shit Jet lag with a bad bitch in Paris I'm sitting on her Defy gravity with fashion Stepping on Giuseppe's if you ask And they throw on the scene And on the seems A P C low horn There's gold on it And I ain't even playing Pardon my habits We just talking family Designer rope chain In my jewellery She know 'cause I'm pissing on her mule And it's over, you medulla Years of all whores Cocaine connoisser Eyes glossed, best dressed But more duce noose Duce Duce Say, ya'all on my sofa Cartier rosa I'm the chauffeur It was marked from the start Since the snazzy apart Close up I'm built to a ark A wrack flex My back pack bars M C M Hatton back pack Filled with firearms Death by designer Christian Dior bullets And when the pull at the flesh go The magazine mac glow What's the issue? Scud missile Sling back wreck 'official I past those leather buck and whiled tones You see I like gotta pair of whiled's on Nix, polly, polly tic 'em with them politicians Poverty, push 'em, pure And It's my problem As the world turns my n***a's burnt But as this worls burns my n***a's deserve Just some shit I learned Get money in the draught; n***a What do you sell Not living to your potential Got you living in hell Eyes they hind you Smirking the car very well Cut up the baffoe Set you up with fail This is down where I G with the rap song I could run up in this gallery with the mask on Fighting like a brainless Now times is heinous But still I need an idea And the trainers I got More bangers Rings on both fingers My shit come four languages You suppose to manage us All I need, some black wranglers N***a Get you hold a wranglers And five wild winners Bougth whole summers Watch the sign, I even like do real numbers Watch the spear liners Watch Nix square liners But they ain't touch mail from us Not a thing outta our stomachs Try, you like them pigs out do you? And a jumpsuit from Africa I saw her driving with sicker Oh, up in the freak town sector You know it's love n***a You know that I'm deep down with you This ain't no beast town And the freak down with you I really had nothing Hood kids got this I put a twelve foot Mickey Queens Prize project Listen close now Speak through the process Shit, I'm having a ball And I got this sit in the wall And my barber might insert a sib With a snub and I haven't finished you off Get a little glimpse, it makes sense I'm twenty years after the drug dealers and pimps Money still dirty like I'm knocking fence Most my music now streaming like I'm prince