Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song God Damn, artist - HoodRich Pablo Juan. Album song Designer Drugz 3, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 12.10.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: EMPIRE, Hoodrich, MONY POWR RSPT
Song language: English
God Damn |
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, goddamn |
I got bitches 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 ass, goddamn |
I got Supreme on my Vans |
Gucci bag, fill it with bands |
Call up the shooter, they jump out the van, yeah |
I’m ice skating, got my shooter waiting |
I, I got the cookies, baking |
I wanna fuck, I’m impatient |
Foreign, she half-Asian |
Foreign, I ride like I’m racing |
Dirty AK with my shell cases |
None of my bitches 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 |
Fuck 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 fuck up, ain’t no reason to fear |
Get your ass busted, ain’t no pussies over here |
Brand new foreign with the camera in the rear |
Twenty thousand worth of ice in one ear |
I got some bitches that’s white like vanilla |
These niggas falling off the map like Sears |
I got these haters mad, they in tears |
My niggas sharp, I cut like a seal |
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, goddamn |
I got bitches 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 ass, goddamn |
I got Supreme on my Vans |
Gucci bag, fill it with bands |
Call up the shooter, they jump out the van, yeah |
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 bitch I just seen at Essex |
All of my bitches, they too sexy |
1017 chain, cop a fezzy |
Just like the police, you gotta arrest it |
I fuck her and treat her like a pedestrian |
Fly by with butterfly wings on my Tesla |
Cook with that pot like professional wrestler |
Pour that shit up, why the fuck 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 piss |
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 nigga, I bet I can get her wet |
She want shit bad, but I got the check |
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, goddamn |
I got bitches 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 ass, goddamn |
I got Supreme on my Vans |
Gucci bag, fill it with bands |
Call up the shooter, they jump out the van, yeah |