Lyrics of 'Gangsta in Designer (No Concept)' by ScHoolboy Q
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Nigga ain't got no concept to this shit, so I was just on some crazy shit, like
(Yeah!) bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double d's, please, be the birkin bag
Designer heels, hermès pants—how you fit in that?
(Haha, yeah, you feel me, like? Huh)
(Yeah!) look at me—ray-bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different-colored pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag
Okay, I'm energized, say my tunes turn her on (turn her on)
This ain't enterprise, but kick it boo, let's bring it home (bring it home)
I'm hella high, back to back, I smoke alone
Unless my nigga soul around, fuck it 'cause, let's blow a zone
Now, carry on—assume you niggas need a loan (yeah)
Quit it with the texting cuh and go and make a song (yeah)
My foreign ho—bitch call me a maricón
Always rocking shit I never seen or I never known (yeah)
Name grown overseas fitter (fitter)
Sergio tacchini shirt, real creeper slippers (ugh)
Ysl, see the logo on my zipper
Broad serving me, she going down, yeah, I had to tip her, ugh (tip her, tip her, tip her)
A-ten, hut (ten, hut)
(Yeah!) bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double d's, please, be the birkin bag
Designer heels, hermès pants, how you fit in that?
(Haha, yeah, you feel me, like? Huh)
(Yeah!) look at me—ray-bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different coloured pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag
Hiiipower, bitch, let 'em know the players here (ugh)
I said: Hiiipower, bitch, give me gangster of the year (ugh)
This for my hogs on figg and homies on the tier
Always keep this shit groovy, nigga, and I ain't shed a tear (woo)
Black gat, black whip—no tags on it (ugh)
Face tats, 'cause, for sure, gon' throw the mask on it (mask on it)
Burner on my lap, nigga, motherfuck the cops (fuck the cops)
Dea and all the feds gon' be my murder plot (my murder plot)
Money, cash, hoes by the dozen (dozen)
Never started cracking, bitch, just started cooking onions, ugh (ugh)
Now, my weed habit always funded (yeah)
And these college broads be fucking, do whatever, have 'em flunking (flunking, ugh)
A-ten, hut (ten, hut)
(Yeah!) bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double d's, please, be the birkin bag
Designer heels, hermès pants, how you fit in that?
(Yeah, you feel me, like? Huh)
(Yeah!) look at me—ray-bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different-colored pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag (ugh)
Bitch say she like my songs, so I do her (do her)
She love a street nigga that done jumped up out the cooler (cooler, ugh, ugh)
Young-ass entrepreneur (yeah)
In the 40/40 club, tripping like I ain't from hoover, ugh (yeah)
No bottles, no tables, I just wanna fuck (fuck)
You, you, you, and you—yeah, they know what's up ('sup)
Only one at a time, baby, slow it down (slow it down)
Just wait up in the front and listen to the sounds (to the sounds)
She doing all the things she say she say do (do, ooh)
Swallow evidence, her boyfriend never had a clue, ugh (clue)
Sticking to the script like motherfucking glue (glue)
Got your birdie on my wood like the bitches from the lou, ooh
A-ten, hut (ten, hut)
(Yeah!) bad bitch, long hair, skin pretty, curvy ass
Flat stomach, double d's, please, be the birkin bag
Designer heels, hermès pants—how you fit in that?
(Haha, yeah, you feel me, like? Huh)
(Yeah!) look at me—ray-bans, I ain't tryna see you fags
Jean jacket, different-colored pants, I ain't tryna match
Mauve watch, sagging, see my ass, pop the thirty tag
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Otras canciones de ScHoolboy Q
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