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hoodrich pablo juan - god damn lyrics

[chorus]
she know she bad, i got that bag
foreign with 230 on the dash
i could count cash fast
pouring up lean, go to sleep on them xans
roll up gelato, three grams
stuffing my pocket with bands
she cute, she having a hand
i’m rich, i know i’m the man, yeah
ice on my neck, godd-mn
i got b-tches popping up like spam
send my money, give her twenty two grams
sell the whole thing, we don’t sell no grams
she got a fat -ss, godd-mn
i got supreme on my vans
gucci bag, fill it with bands
call up the shooter, they jump out the van, yeah

[verse 1]
i’m ice skating, got my shooter waiting
i, i got the cookies, baking
i wanna f-ck, i’m impatient
foreign, she half-asian
foreign, i ride like i’m racing
dirty ak with my sh-ll cases
none of my b-tches is basic
on the red pill like neo in the matrix
yeah, yeah, yeah
everything i wear is rare
gucci with snakes and lions and bears
louis vuitton, i love damier
f-ck from the back and i pull on her hair
yeah, rocking chanels and moncler
outfit, it come out next year
i’m drinking lean, not no beer
yeah, strapped the f-ck up, ain’t no reason to fear
get your -ss busted, ain’t no p-ss-es over here
brand new foreign with the camera in the rear
twenty thousand worth of ice in one ear
i got some b-tches that’s white like vanilla
these n-gg-s falling off the map like sears
i got these haters mad, they in tears
my n-gg-s sharp, i cut like a seal

[verse 2]
vs all-black diamonds like wesley
beat up the pot like i’m playing tekken
can’t wear silver, i ain’t come in second
i ain’t got no time for these thots and these peasants
yeah, strapped up like i was giuseppes
bad b-tch i just seen at ess-x
all of my b-tches, they too s-xy
1017 chain, cop a fezzy
just like the police, you gotta arrest it
i f-ck her and treat her like a pedestrian
fly by with b-tterfly wings on my tesla
cook with that pot like professional wrestler
pour that sh-t up, why the f-ck would i measure?
gucci bag with the .38 special
i’m rocking louis like i could play chess
i spread like the old man that you p-ss
ooh, i make her give me the neck
call me pj like a private jet
trap like a soldier, got stacks on deck
i stay in designer, i walk on a check
i’m dressing like i’m vinegarette
i bust that seal on that hitech
rich n-gg-, i bet i can get her wet
she want sh-t bad, but i got the check

[chorus]
she know she bad, i got that bag
foreign with 230 on the dash
i could count cash fast
pouring up lean, go to sleep on them xans
roll up gelato, three grams
stuffing my pocket with bands
she cute, she having a hand
i’m rich, i know i’m the man, yeah
ice on my neck, godd-mn
i got b-tches popping up like spam
send my money, give her twenty to [?]
sell the whole thing, we don’t sell no grams
she got a fat -ss, godd-mn
i got supreme on my vans
gucci bag, fill it with bands
call up the shooter, they jump out the van, yeah

- hoodrich pablo juan lyrics

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