Vogue
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Lyrics
Yeah Yeah ♪ Yeah ♪ Where my enemy? Got a lil' bad bitch, sweet like cinnamon We no synonym I'm gettin' money, you a broke boy entity Sellin' weed in the back street Gotta watch these hoes, run the gang like a track meet Had to do my taxes Gettin' too much money, got too many assets Lotta diamonds, they baguettes I don't even speak French, my clothes Italian Whole gang stay wylin' Know a nigga stay dripped, don't need no stylist Lil' boy stay silent We'll pull up quick, whole gang they ridin' I got my bitch out of Vogue She so rich, that shits just like her clothes Wear Dior, and paint white on her toes I don't know why she put coke in her nose She a freak when she comin' with me So we fuckin', we don't even speak Pop a Perc, and I don't even sleep I've been deep in that bitch for a week I've been deep in that bitch, I've been gone They been textin', been callin' my phone They like, "Gucci, man, where have you gone?" Got a bag, and I ain't comin' home I'm so high, I might fall out the sky Power-fuckin', I wasn't your type Got a gang, but you not 'bout that life Know you nigga, you stay actin' nice Off a drug, and you know that I'm gone Put her lips on my dick like a bong Hit that bitch, smack her ass like a gong We be fuckin', it sound like a song Said lil' bitch, "Watch me on YouTube" I just pop me a Perc, she like, "You too" Can't connect with a ho like a Bluetooth She said I fucked her friend, I'm like "Who knew?" "Who you?" Got a bitch in ATL, look like new new He can't even find her back, he need a blue clue I don't even like to brag, I could've fooled you Niggas steady chillin', servin', could've sued you Try to play me? Yeah, it's cool, boo Ballerina bitch, fuck her in a tutu Plug got bricks, call that nigga Lulu Shootin' for the stars, lookin' for a new moon Told her play her part, I ain't even lose you When you gettin' cash, hoes they choose you Where my enemy? Got a lil' bad bitch, sweet like cinnamon We no synonym I'm gettin' money, you a broke boy entity Sellin' weed in the back street Gotta watch these hoes, run the gang like a track meet Had to do my taxes Gettin' too much money, got too many assets Lotta diamonds, they baguettes I don't even speak French, my clothes Italian Whole gang stay wylin' Know a nigga stay dripped, don't need no stylist Lil' boy stay silent We'll pull up quick, whole gang they ridin' I got my bitch out of Vogue She so rich, that shits just like her clothes Wear Dior, and paint white on her toes I don't know why she put coke in her nose She a freak when she comin' with me So we fuckin', we don't even speak Pop a Perc, and I don't even sleep I've been deep in that bitch for a week
Audio Features
Song Details
- Duration
- 02:46
- Key
- 11
- Tempo
- 125 BPM