what you like, she said “shoppin” I said what else, she said “mobbin” the past couple years have been kinda rough, so clothes is what I get lost in I love it, do it often money, power, respect, Balenciga 2-7, 365, where my Pradas up in the hottub got a lot of product, she rock Proenza said fuck her rent and just copped a Benz-a ain’t got no man, but she’s got a temper Capricorn ass, born in December in Phillip Lim and Timberlands, credit card—no limit—Soulja Slim purse European, got the golden trim can’t organize shit, she just throws it in still on the A train, wearing A. Wang got the same bangs, tryn’a maintain it’s the same thing different day, different bangles, bling bling couple chains, couple rings do the damn thing man, they say it ain’t trickin’ if you got it well let me tell you, it ain’t trickin’ ‘cause bought it/
I used to give a fuck, but not anymore got a bad thing, she walk in any store she got a lot of friends, they all got plenty more she brought a couple through, she callin’ twenty more bad bitches, bad bitches, bitches everywhere feelin’ like I got a Bad Bitch Concierge bad, bad, bad, bad bitches everywhere feelin’ like I got a Bad Bitch Concierge
now Molly gone of that Mary, Mary gone off that Molly me, I’m somewhere in the middle, getting Monie Love in this party got a young bitch that don’t cook or clean dress her ass off and she love McQueen never worked a day in her life n****, her sugar daddy, boy that Celine thats a bad bitch, always talking that cash shit 30K in a zip lock, straight to the mall, she got a bag—sick what’s that jacket?—Margiela what them shoes ‘bout?—Alaia what’s that bag there?—don’t worry what it cost ya?—a Honda them other hoes, getting pissed off can’t buy that with no gift card her ass real, her titties real what that pussy ‘about?—I give it six stars with the world in her hand, a real n**** in her corner head to the sky, that’s a bad bitch for ya’ —sho’ nuff
I used to give a fuck, but not anymore got a bad thing, she walk in any store she got a lot of friends, they all got plenty more she brought a couple through, she callin’ twenty more bad bitches, bad bitches, bitches everywhere feelin’ like I got a Bad Bitch Concierge bad, bad, bad, bad bitches everywhere feelin’ like I got a Bad Bitch Concierge
My, my, my, my, my chick dressin’ like Fashion Week Your, your, your, your, your chick, well her fashion’s weak see, mine don’t talk she just let her wrist speak hipster, lipstick, light the Diptyque fresh to death, she’s resting in peace outfit—murder, chalkin’ these cold streets Fred Segal these hoes, she Rodarte-ing the game smelling like Bond #9, fourty years of history all in them frames—vintage riding round the world—living own style she—different money talks and red bottoms walk, everybody listenin’ looking like a model, feeling like a million 5 foot 11 when she up in them heels and grew up in Carson, moved to The Hills and oh so good, but she bad as a villan—damn man, they say it ain’t trickin’ if you got it well let me tell you, it ain’t trickin’ ‘cause bought it
I used to give a fuck, but not anymore got a bad thing, she walk in any store she got a lot of friends, they all got plenty more she brought a couple through, she callin’ twenty more bad bitches, bad bitches, bitches everywhere feelin’ like I got a Bad Bitch Concierge bad, bad, bad, bad bitches everywhere feelin’ like I got a Bad Bitch ConciergeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
