Lyrics Blood On My Denim - A Boogie Wit da Hoodie

Blood On My Denim

Walkin' 'round with two Glizzys in my pocket
Already cocked it, flip a nigga like a socket (Socket)
Nigga, way before the fame we was wildin'
Then they killed my nigga Quado in the projects (Projects)
And it’s a shame, all the bitches that was curvin'
I see the same damn names in my comments (Comments)
She was lookin' O.D.
from a side eye
Said she ain’t an eater, oh she lied, oh she lied-lied
Woke up to three bitches in my bed
Made me say it three times, «Oh you fine, oh you fine-fine»
I ain’t rockin' with no ho niggas or a bozo
That’s a no-no, nigga nah, nah
I know they love my fly
The way I rock Dolce and Gabanna
I lost my niggas to the streets when it coulda been me
It’s fucked up, they either dead or doin' fed time
Boy, you all about your bread, so am I
If it’s money on your mind, .45 to your hairline
And I keep it by the dresser
That’s for any bitch who ever try to break my heart, I won’t let ya
Still got blood on my denims
That was all the blood that was in him, no more love in a nigga
No more love in a nigga
But I swear her company made me so comfortable
I don’t fuck with her (Yeah)
The way she fuck with me
And it’s probably 'cause I’m from the X, where they take for respect
Thought I woulda been into the grave on my def
Same fit for a week, now I hate Nike tech
Now I’m a trendsetter from my sweater to my hat
Biggs put me on the big ass purple Puma jet
I’m flexin' more than ever, she like, «Money make me wet»
And if I die, I’ma die for my respect
Bury me with like a milli' on my neck, ah
She was lookin' O.D.
from a side eye
Said she ain’t an eater, but she lie all the time-time
I woke up to three bitches in my bed
Made me say it three times, like, «You fine, oh you fine-fine»
I ain’t rockin' with no ho niggas or a bozo
That’s a no-no, nigga nah, nah
I know they love my fly
The way I rock Dolce and Gabanna
I lost my niggas to the streets when it coulda been me
It’s fucked up, they either dead or doin' fed time
Boy, you all about your bread, so am I
If it’s money on your mind, .45 to your hairline
And I keep it by the dresser
Just in case a bitch ever try to break my heart, I won’t let ya
I still got blood on my denims
That was the blood that was in him, no more love in a nigga
Run through it, all the bands that a nigga got
I wonder if the streets still care about me
Long story, I can never really talk about it
I’m numb to it, I stand still when I hear shots
Numb to it, I stand still when I hear shots
I hear niggas talkin' 'bout the money that they don’t got
I used to be up on the corner with my young akh
Now I go buy a couple pounds of the fronto
I still smoke it by the pound, I get dumb high
I still smoke it by the pound like a rasta
I send money to my niggas sittin' up, yeah
I send money to my daughter, she’s a rugrat
I been through it but I’m not givin' up, yeah
I switch up on different cars, now they upset