Lyrics:
blouse
Pull your G-string down South, aoowww
Threw that back out, in the parking lot
By a Cherokee and a green drop-top
And I don't stop, until I squirt
I get a bag fasho
Imma run with a hunnid or more
And that Louis V dripping in gold
Fighting demons they can't take my soul
I was lost til Yahweh
And I would like to play a
Little tune I just composed not so long ago
Ms. Billie Holiday
Byrd?
The music called Jazz
It's roots are in the sounds
afraid!", sophie said, "I'm not afraid"
Then sophie came down to cape town for a holiday
I took her to the waterfront, fokken lekker laaney
I got a chip
I dated
Forgive my favorite word for hers and hers alike
But I learnt it from a song I heard and sorta liked
Yeah, for the icing, glamorized drug
em
Mike amiri jeans
Richard mille make my wrist bleed
Fuck I LIKE THAT, imma bite that
Got the louis and the louis hype bag
Mine for me, thats
Calm down, get the money, and never fall this how I'm feelin
I'm stackin' bands I want it all I know you hurt
But I know my worth louis my shirt
I
diamond rings,
She pulls my man around by her apron strings.
And if it wasn't for powder and her store-bought hair,
Oh, that man of mine wouldn't go
world's fucked up, man
It's time for the holidays in a lot of ways
Not just cause the date
Maybe you can relate, you know, with the snow thats on the way
Pussy don't run got the beam on his back
I need that money with no strings attached
Got a nigga sitting in the trap cutting crack
Your man like
around by her apron string
If it wasn't for powder and her [Incomprehensible] hair
That man I love wouldn't have gone nowhere, nowhere
I got the St.
litty
Let's go
Eh, eh, eh Ho-H-H-H-Holiday on the beat!
Romper, Louis, never ASICS
She a cutie with no facelift
Simple but never basic
Buss down my wrist
listen to Jodeci?
Yeah, sing for me, baby
Buy McQueen for my baby
Do the things for my baby that nigga wouldn't (yeah, uh)
Pull strings for my baby,
good girls in Louis Vuitton gear (yeah)
I like bad bitches, extended long hair (come on)
And she like Raf Simons (like Raf Simons)
My bitch bag like
his spot
By the parking lot
She's in the hotel
Waitin' in his room
For he'll be comin' soon
Oh, in the city
Where all the people say
"There's no other
Yeah, uh, heh, heh
That's Shadowboxing
Yo
It's that Blackout, spazzed out, G-String divas
Leave you a**** out, passed out, it's cold
Pack your h***
I move by myself
Independent
I don't need no help
They wonder how I purchase it myself
Brand new YSL
Cartier the lenses
Louis belt
God I don't need
I know dinners over, but the night is young
Put the kids to bed, cause we staying up
And the family's gone, so we by ourselves
And I'm ready for ya,
at keep that mindset
Shawty pulling on the strings where your mind at
I aint changing me for nobody else and
If you hate me you can shut your damn mouth
around by her apron strings
'Twant for powder an' for store-bought hair
The man I love would not gone nowhere,
Got the Saint Louis blues, blue as I can
string sever
The land and the treasure, work for whatever
Jah said don't be a beggar, the Alpha Omega
Will bless every soul no matter which name you
IQ too much for mediocre convo
I know a Farrakhan though, three-story condo
IPod shuffling between Common, Jay Electronica and Bono
Armado, the last
everything, beating like Harpo
Rolling purple like Harpo, bitches by the car load
They wana see Prince, I'm pulling strings like Carlos
Santana, now we in
the lakefront
We talk for hours about it
With snow and wind outside
We're kept by six hundred miles
But I can't help but smile
When you end all your thoughts
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