Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Confession, artist - Payroll Giovanni.
Date of issue: 21.03.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Confession |
Yuh |
B Mills, what up though? |
BYLUG |
Started out dime-stashin', now I’m into high fashion (Yuh) |
Ridin' past in S-Classes, when I walk, my neck clashin' (Yeah) |
Chains hittin' other chains, every day, I’m duckin' lames |
Braggin' ‘bout that petty shit, boy, I’m in another lane |
Crib with electric gates, coupes with the paper plates |
Scrape and shake in place, help a nigga get his paper straight |
Pocket-watchers tryna calculate what I make a day |
‘Cause I been wearin' rose gold since Miskeen and Bathing Ape |
Pointers in the cross when I’m sayin' grace, amen |
Outfit almost eight bands, your bitch told me to make plans (Bitch) |
Told me meet her at the Black party, bitch, I’m way in France |
Sippin' on tea with Louis gloves warmin' up on my hands (Yuh) |
Obviously, I ain’t your man, he a pill-poppin |
Nappy-head, tacky motherfucker, I’m a smooth hustler (Ha) |
I drink Dom P and wear snug tees that smell like Creed |
And flood neighborhoods anytime I’m sellin' weed |
My confession is I’m ballin' on ‘em like it’s my possession |
Never restin', only time I sit — I’m countin' at the Westin |
They can’t fuck with me, my competition is my reflection |
My confession is I got a bad Louis Vuitton obsession |
My confession: I can’t help but to buy some shit that I like |
Go to sleep, dream about diamonds, wake up and buy some ice |
My confession: I had your bitch suckin' me all night |
Went to sleep in D&G and then woke up in Off-White |
My confession |
Yeah |
Detroit nigga blowin' California Cookie (Blowin') |
I been doin' this, I ain’t no mufuckin' rookie (Ain't no rookie, nigga) |
Had to grind for this shit, niggas think I just got lucky (Uh huh) |
Last time you had a run, the Pistons had Rodney Stuckey (Broke ass niggas) |
Everybody swear they up, everybody swear they ball |
But pullin' out the GPS when it’s time to hit the mall (Huh?) |
Your bitch blowin' up my phone, but she still won’t get a call (Hell nah) |
When I leave out Somerset, they give me round of applause, nigga (Yup) |
Pick my sister up from school with ‘bout twenty of ‘em (Twenty) |
They like, «What your brother do?» |
She told ‘em listen to my songs |
Young, skinny nigga, but I still got them big bucks (I do) |
I been chillin' lately, but you still can get your bitch fucked (Uh huh) |
All a nigga talk is money, bitch, I got the hiccups (Hiccups) |
One-on-one with your bitch, like we playin' pick-up |
I’m the young OG, you know I gotta remind (Gotta remind) |
Could’ve bought a whip, instead, I went to Louis Vuitton, nigga |
My confession is I’m ballin' on ‘em like it’s my possession |
Never restin', only time I sit — I’m countin' at the Westin |
They can’t fuck with me, my competition is my reflection |
My confession is I got a bad Louis Vuitton obsession |
My confession: I can’t help but to buy some shit that I like |
Go to sleep, dream about diamonds, wake up and buy some ice |
My confession: I had your bitch suckin' me all night |
Went to sleep in D&G and then woke up in Off-White |
My confession |
Everything I’m talkin' - I’ve done it, I ain’t seen it (Nope) |
And everything that come out my mouth, I really mean it (Yup) |
And everything that come out your mouth, we can’t believe it (Boy) |
It’s some real niggas in hoods that know I’m genius (Swear to God) |
I ain’t hatin', this shit all facts, y’all niggas are ball cappin' (Yup) |
If fake-it-til-you-make-it was a sport, y’all be all champs (Yup) |
Got sidetracked, took a year off just to stack it up |
And I know how to play these niggas soon as I’m back up |
All that lil' pussy shit, «They onto me,» whack as fuck (Fuck) |
I just put thirty of ‘em things in back of a truck (Yup) |
Shit be amazin' to y’all, don’t shit surprise me (Nope) |
You ain’t pulled up to Church’s to serve a five-piece |
I was done after nine, they was on a crime spree |
With a toothpick in my mouth, smokin' over the receipt (Yup) |
You can ask anybody, really did it in these streets |
Callin' shotgun in that Lamb- like it got assigned seats, nigga |
My confession is I’m ballin' on ‘em like it’s my possession |
Never restin', only time I sit — I’m countin' at the Westin |
They can’t fuck with me, my competition is my reflection |
My confession is I got a bad Louis Vuitton obsession |
My confession: I can’t help but to buy some shit that I like |
Go to sleep, dream about diamonds, wake up and buy some ice |
My confession: I had your bitch suckin' me all night |
Went to sleep in D&G and then woke up in Off-White |
My confession |
BYLUG, nigga |
Cashout Calhoun, Payroll Giovanni, Lil Blade, what up though? |
G’s and ballers, nigga? |
You know who this is — HB |