Hoodrich Pablo Juan – God Damn lyrics

[Chorus]
She know she bad, I got that bag
Foreign with 230 on the dash
I could count cash fast
Pouring up lean, go to sleep on them Xans
Roll up gelato, three grams
Stuffing my pocket with bands
She cute, she having a hand
I'm rich, I know I'm the man, yeah
Ice on my neck, goddamn
I got bitches popping up like spam
Send my money, give her twenty two grams
Sell the whole thing, we don't sell no grams
She got a fat ass, goddamn
I got Supreme on my Vans
Gucci bag, fill it with bands
Call up the shooter, they jump out the van, yeah

[Verse 1]
I'm ice skating, got my shooter waiting
I, I got the cookies, baking
I wanna fuck, I'm impatient
Foreign, she half-Asian
Foreign, I ride like I'm racing
Dirty AK with my shell cases
None of my bitches is basic
On the red pill like Neo in The Matrix
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Everything I wear is rare
Gucci with snakes and lions and bears
Louis Vuitton, I love Damier
Fuck from the back and I pull on her hair
Yeah, rocking Chanels and Moncler
Outfit, it come out next year
I'm drinking lean, not no beer
Yeah, strapped the fuck up, ain't no reason to fear
Get your ass busted, ain't no pussies over here
Brand new foreign with the camera in the rear
Twenty thousand worth of ice in one ear
I got some bitches that's white like vanilla
These niggas falling off the map like Sears
I got these haters mad, they in tears
My niggas sharp, I cut like a seal

[Chorus]
She know she bad, I got that bag
Foreign with 230 on the dash
I could count cash fast
Pouring up lean, go to sleep on them Xans
Roll up gelato, three grams
Stuffing my pocket with bands
She cute, she having a hand
I'm rich, I know I'm the man, yeah
Ice on my neck, goddamn
I got bitches popping up like spam
Send my money, give her twenty two grams
Sell the whole thing, we don't sell no grams
She got a fat ass, goddamn
I got Supreme on my Vans
Gucci bag, fill it with bands
Call up the shooter, they jump out the van, yeah

[Verse 2]
VS all-black diamonds like Wesley
Beat up the pot like I'm playing Tekken
Can't wear silver, I ain't come in second
I ain't got no time for these thots and these peasants
Yeah, strapped up like I was Giuseppes
Bad bitch I just seen at Essex
All of my bitches, they too sexy
1017 chain, cop a fezzy
Just like the police, you gotta arrest it
I fuck her and treat her like a pedestrian
Fly by with butterfly wings on my Tesla
Cook with that pot like professional wrestler
Pour that shit up, why the fuck would I measure?
Gucci bag with the .38 special
I'm rocking Louis like I could play Chess
I spread like the old man that you piss
Ooh, I make her give me the neck
Call me PJ like a private jet
Trap like a soldier, got stacks on deck
I stay in Designer, I walk on a check
I'm dressing like I'm vinegarette
I bust that seal on that Hitech
Rich nigga, I bet I can get her wet
She want shit bad, but I got the check

[Chorus]
She know she bad, I got that bag
Foreign with 230 on the dash
I could count cash fast
Pouring up lean, go to sleep on them Xans
Roll up gelato, three grams
Stuffing my pocket with bands
She cute, she having a hand
I'm rich, I know I'm the man, yeah
Ice on my neck, goddamn
I got bitches popping up like spam
Send my money, give her twenty to [?]
Sell the whole thing, we don't sell no grams
She got a fat ass, goddamn
I got Supreme on my Vans
Gucci bag, fill it with bands
Call up the shooter, they jump out the van, yeah