baby smoove - omg lyrics
[intro]
(f+cking rich, i’m a young rich b+st+rd)
(pull up with them choppas, we gon’ make him run a lil’ faster)
walk inside the gucci store, about to spend like thirty+seven
bought this b+tch a chanel bag, and i got louie kicks
(oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god)
ysl, birkin, prada, fendi type of gift
(oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god)
(twenty)
[verse]
b+tch i’m mr. perfect, it don’t stink when i sh+t
she like how you do that walk? i say get high off a six
i might go and buy 40 pints, cause i really sip
i might go and buy some more cars, cause i’m really rich
they like smoove how you do it? boy, all you make is hits
supercharger on my motor, this is not no v6
oh my god, my b+tch so cold, i just tell her give me kiss
oh my god, my b+tch so bad, i just make her give me kid
all my b+tchеs princess, they be throwing p+ssy fits
walk insidе the gucci store, ’bout to spend like 36
bought this b+tch a chanel bag, and got me a louie’ kick
every car i got is fast, i be driving off the sh+ts
she like ysl, birkin, prada, fendi type of gifts
my first chain gon’ be vvs, nothing like your sh+t
when it’s cold i wear monclers, i be warm as sh+t
oh my god, it’s so expensive, but i still buy that sh+t
fat wood with this dirty fanta, it go hand and hand
drop sixty in your car, we gon’ get you and your man
hit the gas on the hook, n+gga, f+ck you and your bag
hit the gas on the hook, i don’t put sh+t in my stash
i’m off a pint in this h+llcat, hoping i don’t crash
got a pint, and my baby glock, hot in my bag
i woke up and bought balenciagas, you can’t buy airmax
i don’t wear no f+cking yeezys, they don’t sell them in saks
you the type to smoke some blue cookie out a runtz bag
no cap, i’m a boss, i got more money then your dad
make a n+gga come up missing, they won’t ever find his ashes
get the f+ck off my dms, i ain’t doing no songs with you f+ggots
[outro]
i’m so f+cking rich, i’m a young rich b+st+rd (oh my god)
pull up with them choppas, we gon’ see if he can+
i’m so f+cking rich, i’m a young rich b+st+rd
pull up with them choppas, we gon’ make him run a lil’ faster
(oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god)
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