I stuff you in the trunk, drunk
My g"s have been handcuffed,
Shoes, louis, prada, groupie blah blah
Uh, that shit you talk don't move me nada
Whipping white and baking soda, at the same damn time
Bonded with the children of zion, my mind is s-s-s-so divine.
No tats dey for my arm
So i thanks for my mom
Chanel louis prada what a mixture
Ay yo you wonder who i are
We the moody, gucci, louis and pucci men
When i get my v12, i’ma be in six of them
When you took my hand up so calm
Well go cry to your mom
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