Lyrics Designer Belts - Jarren Benton, Coach, Elz Jenkins

Designer Belts

Yeah
Ill nigga, tell a friend bitch
Money over bitches while the world still spin
Yeah, forever terminating trash
Middle finger to the pigs that’s exterminating blacks, fuck 'em
Lord Benton I’m moving expensive linens
Fuck my slave name, I’m switching it to a emblem
I never trust the system investin' in private prisons
As long as I’m breathing I’m probably the livest livin'
Name a nigga iller than me, I’ll wait
They ain’t fucking with the God, how, Sway?
Fuck these labels I bet I leave with my masters
Black lives never mattered as long as I’m eating rappers
Rest in pissed, I never honor you chumps
These niggas swagger jackin, you chumps Melania Trump
Click, click, blaow
Put you niggas in a permanent slump
Never smell no weird odors when I’m burning a blunt
Yeah, they be like «Mr.
Benton you quite odd.»
Atheist, I never pray to a white God
No disrespect to my white folks
But they be like «We want that old Jarren, The psycho.»
Since my nigga died, I ain’t been the same
Fuck the skitzo, pussy nigga, come feel this pain
I got family in Flint, Michigan
These motherfuckers poison the water to get rid of them
A couple bucks will make your life switch
I don’t trust the government, my wife nor my side bitch
Yeah, a nigga crying for help
A taste for suicide I hang from designer belts
Yeah, God bless America, if it ain’t your own then the pigs gon' come and bury
you niggas
Complain about bullshit while niggas do fed time
Some niggas that got clipped got nothing but bed time
You voted for Donald Trump, your vote was a hate crime
The world looking Strange, dawg, I ride with a Tec 9
I’m coming with the facts involved, taxin' y’all
So call me when the straps involved
Talkin trap, panther party with the action, dawg
.44'll waste kids like I’m jackin' off
Swear a nigga wanted to flip
I was nice with basketball still I wanted a brick
Got the brand new fives, still I want me a six
Like a nigga got a wife but still I want me yo bitch
Sold crack on the corners to back to back all the foreigns
I put my mind to it and got it right off the tour
And still they pull me over like, «What the fuck is you doing?»
«Save us both a search now what drug is you movin'?»
Damn man, I want these niggas dead
Put these arms to his head, he be Mr. Potato head
A nigga been fed, but never fuck with the feds
We killin' everything, I hope you niggas prepared
On a lighter note, Niggas still coming with the fire, though
Burnin' up the trees getting higher than Mariah Notes
Mink coat killa' with the drug deala'
Sum it all up, fuck a fuck nigga
Jenkins