Givenchy ft. Lunchbox Lyrics

(Fotrill!)

Wrist froze, yea she like how I do it

Geeked up on them drugs, yea I'm booted

Good brain you would think she's a tutor

New Range, you see how I maneuver

Think I ain't got it? Boy you got to be stupid

Lot of guala, that's inside of my 'subies

Countin' broccoli, yea you know what I'm doin'

Not a problem, if it's like that we'll move it

(Whew)

Bitch so bad and my wrist all glass, look everybody know I'm poppin'

Ricks all black and the whip so fast, no lil' boy you can't stop me

Racks on me long, yea this shit gettin' sloppy

High out my mind, and I'm geeked out my body

Pockets got fat and your shit lookin' scrawny

Walk out the store and I got on Givenchy

Baby let's go get high

We'll do whatever you like

I know that you not that type

You can not fuck with my guys

Really we come out at night

Spent the whole check on some ice

Woah

I'm on them drugs

I'm on them drugs

That bitch, she know what's up

Switch out the coupe, had to back out the truck

Lil' bitch there's no catchin' up

Lil' bitch there's no catchin' up

I fell in love with my cup

Niggas try, what we do

But they suck, so they lose

He runnin' up, then he lose

Get the mop, get the broom

High

I'm not mad bitch I get high

And I'm sorry bitch, I get high

New fashion, I get fly

Move out bitch, I get fried

I get tired

Niggas steal swag, bitch I get tired

Every time

Uh, every time (ah, ah)

Closet that's full of designer, boy I rock every kind

Smokin' my dope by the zip like how'd I get this high?

Uh, Cartier shades on my face just 'cuz I'm too damn fried

I'm eatin' steak with the lobster, I got every side

Uh, Diamond my neck, boy I'm ballin' just look how they shine

And she's trying to get in my pants but I said "not tonight"

Wrist froze, yea she like how I do it

Geeked up on them drugs, yea I'm booted

Good brain you would think she's a tutor

New Range, you see how I maneuver

Think I ain't got it? Boy you got to be stupid

Lot of guala, that's inside of my 'subies

Countin' broccoli, yea you know what I'm doin'

Not a problem, if it's like that we'll move it

(Whew)

Bitch so bad and my wrist all glass, look everybody know I'm poppin'

Ricks all black and the whip so fast no lil' boy you can't stop me

Racks on me long, yea this shit gettin' sloppy

High out my mind, and I'm geeked out my body

Pockets got fat and your shit lookin' scrawny

Walk out the store and I got on Givenchy