Spiderfang – Pink Polo Shorts lyrics

[Verse 1: Spiderfang]
Black-cloaked jeans, cross-color shirt
Jansport knapsack, that is where I keep the work
And by work, I mean weed
I'm a mac, but I rock A.P.C
No Microsoft, no Hodgman
Spiderfang fly to the point it's a problem
The ?-colored blues, b, I got 'em
The Moltaracci shoes, b, I got 'em
Hot roddin', geo-Prism ridin'
Verrazano Bridge ten bucks and I glide in
So clean like I put extra Tide in
Thorough on the block, cause the kid extra tied-in
On the low from the Jake in the Taurus
Quati boots, like I'm in the motherfucking forest
But I'm not hunting a duck, man
I'm out here grinding, hunting a buck
My mom used to dress me in Conway
Now I rock the pink Polo shorts, no Kanye
All day not giving a fuck
Seinfeld style, not giving a fuck

[Hook]
Nautica shorts, Hilfiger shorts
Pink Polo shorts, pink pink Polo shorts
Vacso shorts, Karl Kani shorts
Pink Polo shorts, pink pink Polo shorts
South Pole shorts, Champion shorts
Pink Polo shorts, pink pink Polo shorts
Coogi shorts, Russell Athletic shorts
Pink Polo shorts, pink pink Polo shorts

[Verse 2: Heems]
Yeah, fuzzy red fleeces, Bloomy's, Macy's
Hilfiger, Polo, Nautica, crazy
And I'm in your girl's tushie
Got like eight orange Nautica swooshies
Hanging on the Jansport knapsack
Ain't nothing, just backpack trap rap
At the crib stay burning
Sweaters by S.N.S. Herning
N.Y. natives, we get that cash
High-tops made by Chris van Ash
Make them dollars, fugiwara
In the Honda with a bougie mama
Who he? Ha ha, he got dollars
Common projects line his closet
My mom used to dress me in Conway
Or booger-green sweaters straight from Bombay

[Hook]

[Verse 3: KOOL A.D.]
Do you love it? I love it, I got it at Ross, man
Bay-top, my mom's sauce is hot sauce, man
Plus I got more sauce than a sauce pan
I'm a saucy-a, man, something like a boss, man
Knuckleheads catch it cocotazo way
Shit trash heaps in my sleep, this a toss-away
Stay stacking pies even if they take the sauce away
From every single spot up in the Bay to far rock away
Playing soccer is stupid, I kick some other necks
Pull your wifey and your sister and your mother next
The brother fresh, plus the kid is dressed
In whatever I found up on the floor that doesn't smell like sex
I rock a women's sweater, I give a fuck, whatever
Call me Kid Cudi how I get the kiddie cut wetter
Cross-color clash, man, Jimmie jazz jam band
All tan everything, everything tan, man

[Hook]