Stella McCartney
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I'm tryna get you high I'm tryna get you fly (Wheezy outta here) I'm tryna get you high, girl (codeine, codeine) I'm tryna get you fly (codeine, codeine) I'm tryna get you fly (codeine, codeine) I'm tryna get you fly, girl (codeine, codeine) (Codeine, codeine) Stella McCartney, I'm drippin' on swag, and I swear it's a whole 'nother wave Brand new designer, gon' hop in the foreign, goin' and goin' to space, yeah Secured the bag, it was Goyard, stuffin' them racks in my Chrome Hearts Spent a lil' quarter, went push-start, checked my persona, that's a new Ferrari Tellin' the truth, never lied to you, all I said was facts, yeah Fresh Dior off the runway, bought a gun store on a Sunday Hit the switch on a Glock .40, my young niggas want bodies I get fresh than a stylist, and I never keep the receipts, yeah I put it on, when I put it on, I'm stackin' it high, I'm stackin' up neat, yeah Drinkin' on muddy, I came in the Rolls buggy with Chanel on my feet, yeah You never seen what I seen, yeah, I got codeine, yeah, on me, yeah Givin' you somethin' to see if you never seen it when it's elite, yeah Bales like pillows for ghost, yeah, Chanaynay pillows, my room, yeah You couldn't ruin my swag, I do it with no effort, you know I'ma pop, yeah Soon as I spill it, they mop, yeah, eat it up, every drop, yeah Designer, my drugs, designer, my jeans, designer, way down to my socks, yeah You gotta match up to my fly, I can't get caught with an impostor I can go back in my archive, I have these bitches starstruck They perpetrate my whole life, I know this shit feel awful Even though I'm ridin' with my Glizzy, everyday, I still feel awesome Stella McCartney, I'm drippin' on swag, and I swear it's a whole 'nother wave Brand new designer, gon' hop in the foreign, goin' and goin' to space, yeah Secured the bag, it was Goyard, stuffin' them racks in my Chrome Hearts Spent a lil' quarter, went push start, checked my persona, that's a new Ferrari Tellin' the truth, never lied to you, all I said was facts, yeah Fresh Dior off the runway, bought a gun store on a Sunday Hit the switch on a Glock .40, my young niggas want bodies I get fresh than a stylist, and I never keep the receipts, yeah Ballin', I keep my composure She f*ck with me for exposure Drivin', V-12 my motor (skrrt) They gon' 'member my name when it's over Back of the back, I'm comfy (yeah) Had to put on for my country (yeah) Pourin' codeine in my tummy (yeah) Wipe your nose like it's runny (slatt) No opp block, sippin' on bubbly (bubbly) Pluto my twin like Dudley (Dudley) I'm on the win like Rocky (yeah) Balenci' my socks, I'm cocky (yeah) Certified G, I ate my fists Brand new foreign, look fire with no kit Drive in my city, top down, no tints Walk in, red carpet, gotta pose for a pic Tricks up my sleeve, got bitches on took Ridin' with a .30 clip under my gut Multiple mortgages, I ain't payin' no rent Wanna die? My assistant gon' benefit I ain't G.D., but I'll take care, plenty folk Crack in the truck, got plenty coke Wheezy outta here, more ways than boats Everyday, I'm fresh, I'm sellin' soap Stella McCartney, I'm drippin' on swag, and I swear it's a whole 'nother wave Brand new designer, gon' hop in the foreign, goin' and goin' to space, yeah Secured the bag, it was Goyard, stuffin' them racks in my Chrome Hearts Spent a lil' quarter, went push-start, checked my persona, that's a new Ferrari Tellin' the truth, never lied to you, all I said was facts, yeah Fresh Dior off the runway, bought a gun store on a Sunday Hit the switch on a Glock .40, my young niggas want bodies I get fresh than a stylist, and I never keep the receipts, yeah
Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer
Written by: Navraj Singh Goraya, Nayvadius Wilburn, Wesley Tyler Glass, Amir Esmailian
Lyrics © Ultra Tunes
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Stella McCartney Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 25 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/37765298/Nav/Stella+McCartney>.
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