Fresh Lyrics

Fresh like money

Fresh like cars

Fresh like money

We're superstars

I'm thinking you like why

He drive like he Rossi, Indy car shit

Just rolling down Yale like he run the block, shit

I might need a fan to settle this

I act like a President, but a nigga couldn't win state

And it ain't feel great, but damn I ain't mad

That I lost what I really never had

And now I'm on Breezy shit, but I don't hit women nigga

I'm Poppin' just to have the feeling

Is that fine?

I never knew what it felt like

I saw it, I heard it, but never knew what it smelled like

A new car maybe or some Js just Like Mike, or Dom Perignon on a private flight

I'm just saying, make sure to get a tall ceiling when your stacking all the muhh-fucking Green up

Imma take a little off the top for a Beamer

And it might seem like I'm switching teams up, but if the shoe fits wear it

You're two-face characters pick one side

You think I'm lost 'cause i stay getting high and shit

Stay looking fly like I want, no suit and no tie shit

And fuck being corporate, like goddamn

Is that cool?

That I really never liked being at the top of the motherfucking school?

Like I'll do it my way, thanks, 'cause I ain't quite diggin it

Ain't no gold in the dirt unless I rest my soul in it

Fresh like money

Fresh like cars

Fresh like money

We're superstars

And I'm thinking I'm like, damn

These niggas gonna have a heart attack

When they look at the TV and see the bling bling

They'll be wondering, what happened?

Like, who is this nigga how the fuck he go from Trump to rapping and shit

bless his heart, he's off the deep end

Just look at his gold teeth, how is he speaking?

I knew him when he ran for office

Wore a red hat like a good boy now he barking

Must've been off that good good

It gotta be the devil, that's why he started embracing the hood

Or even all the bad influences, the people he surrounded himself with, they started this foolishness

Niggas need to stop and think

I'm telling you, niggas need to put down ya drinks

But for me Imma have me a lime sour, in a room at Trump Tower,

And piss all on the walls so it stinks

And then I walk out the gold doors in a Mink

Like boy it's 85 degrees in this muhh-fucker

but look how soft it is

It gotta be that feeling of being accomplished,

And I'm cool with it

So is that cool with you?

I ask for the experiment I don't really care

I just want the experience of a prince of Bel-Air

And I think that's fair so nigga imma look better for wear 'cause I'm

Fresh like money

Fresh like cars

Fresh like money

We're superstars