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Gallery Dept. all down to my socks On a three-level yacht with some bottles of drank Leavin' the lot on the way to the bank Leavin' the lot on the way to the bank Big body smell like a pound of Gelatti I made a pit stop, put some 'za in my tank Her Birkin bag hold a Biscotti My bitch got a natural body, it's not what you think Switchin' my vehicles, switchin' my lo' I'm not trickin' on hoes, I'm just tippin' my driver Find me a plug out of town with the gas, I'ma cop me a bag, set the city on fire Crossin' the border with Dora Explorer, my cocaine whiter than Lizzie McGuire Dog in the cell with a miniature Bible Brodie didn't tell, so I sent him a wire Cocaine whiter than Jennifer Lawrence, the heroin Michael B. Jordan, it's tan Eight hundred horses inside of the motor, I pull up on niggas, it sound like the Klan We got a spot in the ceiling where we be hidin' work and the pills, just unscrew the fan Curbside pickup just like Walmart Shopping Center, thank you, come again Flippin' the Bentley, got tired of my chauffeur, I gave him a day off of work, get some rest I need a Drake type of deal at the minimum, hundred M's, we finna purchase a jet Boss Hogg Outlaw, serve and collect, big 30 on me in a purplish 'Vette I really got rich off Percocets, I bet Soulja Boy Tell 'Em ain't the first at that Ridin' in the S65 and it's sixty degrees, I need me a turtleneck Google myself, I'm worth a check You can hate on me, but the shit just ain't gon' work, it's gon' be the reverse effect SongtexteMaybach rear end, curtains eject Penthouse high where the turbulence at You broke, I hear you allergic to racks I might boat up and go burgundy 'Lac She say I'm ungrateful 'cause I made her take all the Burberry back Sippin' on drank, I'm gettin' purposefully fat My money real neat, it be perfectly stacked Nigga, you wouldn't wanna walk in my shoes Or put on my clothes, my shirt is a rack Sellin' blue jeans like we workin' at Saks Push a new Bentley, I blew out my motor Servin' my daddy, now I'm a lil' older Neighbors got mad, they complained 'bout the odor Rockin' chinchilla, it chill on my shoulders Save all the shake and pay rent with the overs The blues go for forty-two in Dakota Find out she stealin' my money, I'ma choke her Ridin' in the back of the Benz like Oprah Gallery Dept. all down to my socks On a three-level yacht with some bottles of drank Leavin' the lot on the way to the bank Leavin' the lot on the way to the bank Big body smell like a pound of Gelatti I made a pit stop, put some 'za in my tank Her Birkin bag hold a Biscotti My bitch got a natural body, yeah Every day we can go eat Mr. Chow, sometimes I sit back and just eat me some noodles Ridin' with the girl and the boy in the back, if the police pull over the car, it's a Uber Regular in your cigar, it's a hookah Yellow bitch washin' my car with a loofah Flyin' in a rocket, I doubt they gon' nuke us Ran up my guap and went bought a bazooka (Big Money Missions) Aus Songtexte Mania