Lyrics Seeing Things - Luxury Tax

Seeing Things

Since a youngin, I was in the hood servin' rocks
Graduated on the block, runnin' from the cops
They know I always keep a Glock, don’t end up in a bind
Goyard full of hunnids, it don’t matter what it cost
Baby, tell your friend come here and make her take it off
He was cappin' 'bout the package, so we took 'em all
My red bottoms cost an extra stack and you know how I ball
Rollin', we straight up out the pound, this for my niggas who are dead and gone
Since I didn’t bring it all with me, I might have to spend it all
I know a couple of savages that kill shit
I sip out of designers, double cups
My foreign bitch with me, I’m rollin' blunts
Push button the whip and it’s roarin' up
She jump in the passenger, she thick as fuck
I got cash for days, had harder days, I’m stuck in my ways
I took chances just so we wouldn’t have to starve today
Adderall and molly, I be seeing things
Coutin' up the paper, mister money machine
, I don’t need a
Now I got floor seats, my haters in the nosebleeds
I bought a foreign car just so I could test the speed
Any extra cash, I go spend it on extra bling
Fiji water, neck drip like a fucking sink
Silent stones, that gold you wear don’t mean a thing
Once I shop, I cook up like it’s Krispy Kreme
Let’s take some henny shots, I’m rich as fuck, I’m sellin' lean
My little Spanish bitch steals drugs out of the pharmacy
Got that bitch fired, now I’m back to buyin' off the streets
Mister pints and bricks and nigga fuckin' on your bitch
Expensive outfit, I’m up, Louboutin my kicks
I don’t leave without the stick, might have to hit my kill switch
'Cause I got drugs all up in my section, I’m just tryin' to keep it lit
You know what time it is
I sip out of designers, double cups
My foreign bitch with me, I’m rollin' blunts
Push button the whip and it’s roarin' up
She jump in the passenger, she thick as fuck
I got cash for days, had harder days, I’m stuck in my ways
I took chances just so we wouldn’t have to starve today
Adderall and molly, I be seeing things
Coutin' up the paper, mister money machine
, I don’t need a
Now I got floor seats, my haters in the nosebleeds