Cashmere

Wolf Gang Golf Wang Swag me out, bitch In an $8000 outfit Y'all hear these niggas talking, it ain't about shit I'm on 15, these niggas on Cloud 6 Tryna get to 9, I'm who they get behind Thirsty to get some shine But bitch, you can't skip the line And time won't even give you minutes Cause this shit is mine You live that ad-lib life, with the unscripted lines I kill em all, just ball, no evidence behind My steps too complex, you can't convict the crime I'm just a criminal, high to my last breath In and out of cities pushing missies till no gas left Street ballin, I was rushing out my Timex And I'm about that fucking scratch paper like a math test That good shit is forming back, Rogaine And they so plain I can't feel em: cocaine When it's in the nasal and you're facially numb mane Snorting all them five dollar verses, them shit's is chump change I'm on my grind, that's some cliche shit But if they see me anywhere, my enemies hate quick Like "he ain't even swag, nigga, he can't spit" and "Everytime he come around we feel like we ain't shit" Save the chit-chatter, it's money to get after Cheating in the book of life A nigga about to skip chapters From flat broke to phat quotes, I'm a real bastard And I smoke weed til I feel like a Zen master It's certified homicide, I'm a clit' master High class pretty bitch basher, big kush asher They told me Domo you're the chosen one Convincing every single bitch that they the only one This shit was cute even way before the song begun If I'm not a real nigga, then show me one But bitch, don't show me none