Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Designer Belts , by - Jarren Benton. Song from the album The Mink Coat Killa LP, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 22.06.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
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 |