Designer

歌詞

This Gucci, this Louie, these Fendi, these Robin, Givenchy, and Truey fits That Prada, Versace, Bally, and Armani, what am I gon' do wit it? All these 100's, these 50's, these 20's add up till I count me a million All these 100's, these 50's, these 20's add up till I count me a million Ferragamo wit Gucci they all the designer, I don't know the difference I forgot what I spent on it I'm from Chiraq, but my belt is from Italy All these 100's, these 50's, these 20's add up till I count me a million All these 100's, these 50's, these 20's add up till I count me a million All these 100's that's on me ain't close to that much But it feel like a million Ridin' around through Chiraq and the bitch with me black But her hair is Brazilian Smoking loud, sippin Act, lil bro got the mac and lil bro on the attack Better watch how you act 'cause the mac'll go BRATTT and they can't bring you back Now its after the fact Put the mac in the trunk while we smoke and relax While I thumb through these racks Man I just spent a stack on a belt and a hat Never thought I'd see the day I go from State to State and I fuck all these hoes on my way Never thought I'd be that nigga every time I step out I got all these hoes in my face But fuck all these bitches All I know is get these digits and flex And stay real with my niggas Kill for my niggas Max been gettin' money, but believe his finger still on the trigga Gotta get this money 'cause the opps ain't dead yet But they always gon be broke and bummy And that ain't nun funny That's why I keep this tech 'cause niggas ain't never gon get nothing from me Hannn! Shooter shoutout to 30 and shoutout to Semi Y'all can't tell the difference I see these lil niggas sneak dissin on twitter and shit But I still ain't gon mention them 'Cause my shorties They itchin to pull on they block and just empty them 100's and clips in em I be all up the way in the states So these local lil niggas don't take much to get to them I be all up in my city in Louie and Fendi just givin' them all my benjamins These niggas pretendin They really ain't gettin' no money, they really ain't with the shits I be up on the block that's named after Roc Where Lil Mally tote 50 and 60 clips Free my big broski Joc, when he touch on the block it's a party So line up a bitch for him These niggas is bitches They snakes and they fakes and they leechers So I don't got shit for them They come up from the streets But grew up to be Jakes and be preachers that give niggas sentences So I be smokin' reefer Chillin' Sippin Countin' digits Missin' all of my niggas While these 100's, these 50's, these 20's keep addin in g's till I count up a milli! Hannn!