Isabel Marant

Yeah

Yeah, I'm on they ass (Yeah)

Hop up on that couch and roll up latto out the bag (Bag)

I don't need a stylist, they can't fuck with Coi Leray (Yeah)

Try to count me out and now I'm big as Trippie Redd

Yeah, Redd, Redd

I hope I don't crash (Crash)

Scrapin' up the rim up on the sidewalk, riding fast

I can't wait to pour up and cook up up in that lab

This that brand new Rick, Denim Tears, LV tags

This that brand new Rick, Denim Tears, LV tags (Yeah)

I don't know nothing

No time for these bitches I don't know (Yeah)

This Prada bag come with problems

These Tiffany Nikes step right on these bozos

Yeah, got a undercover vest, cost me 'bout three racks and they don't know

Yeah, YSL drip on the jet

They flew me direct and put me in front row

Yeah, yeah

Yeah, my diamonds big like a wrestler

Like a wrestler

I put Forgiatos on my Tesla (Oh)

Wake up, go to sleep in Margiela

Bitch, I got that, on my dresser, yeah

Bitch, I'm really rich, got my check up, (Yeah, I'm rich)

Yeah, my socks is Kapital, yeah

Walk in Christian Dior with Kenzo loafers

Red carpet, I'm casual

Isabel Marant in Paris, yeah, yeah, yeah