Designer Stuff (feat. G0r3c0r3 & H3artcrush)

Feel me up, if I'm in the club you know I'm coked up
Flexing stuff, who wants smoke with us? My haters broke as fuck
Let's get high on drugs, give her designer drugs, she loves designer stuff
Rick Owens jeans, not big ass Truey jeans, I rock the finer stuff
Diamonds on my neck and they dance like Elvis Presley
I just got a check and I blew it all already
Zombie gang, zombie gang, your clique is so lame
Laughing out the bank, laughing out the bank straight to the club
Why won't you leave me 'lonе? Leave me' lonе, please don't lead me on
They wanna know where I go, I'm in my bag and I'm still going up

Let's go, zombie gang, yeah
I said fuck the fame (I said fuck the fame)
You can see it in my face
I ain't playin' games (playin' games)
Let's go hit a stain
Bust some muthafuckin' brains
On my wrist a plain jane
Big stuff, get out my face (out my face)
Throwin' fifties, throwin' hunnids
'Cus money don't mean nothing
And I'm chillin out with punkin
Already shknow we up to something
Don't test me to see if I'm bluffing
Wipe your nose and get to running
I stop drinking henessy
I start drinking rémy
Rémy bottles coming in
Fuck it up, we spend all bands
I'ma do it all again
Boy you play pretend

Bitch I want some brains
Popped 3 today
Bitch I'm finna bang bang
I'm a zombie, fuck the fame
Bitch I'm stacking up cash
Bitch [?] annoying
Dropping dead in the club
Bitch I'm feeling Gorey
Redneck shawty
And she all up on me
And I pull up at the club, bitch
In a fucking 'Rari