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Blue
by
Valee
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Lyrics
(Perfect 10) We be countin' up all hundreds, and they gotta be blue (Gotta be new) I stay with a bad b*t*h, yeah, that gotta be true (Gotta be true) I must've hopped out in Off-White I got twenty grand gone on my off-night, on my off-night Run up, it's gon' look like an off light (Yeah, run up, it's gon' look like an off light) sh*t gettin' dim, four iPhones, ain't no SIMs Eighty-five hundred on rims, my spot look like the Sims, yeah (Like the Sims) Gucci gram costs lots of loot I get mouth while I got your boo I blow exotic out the roof Louis pants, they match the coupe You the type to go in store, ask what's the best they could do, that's what I don't do All this sh*t no favor, ain't no IOU And I keep a stick, it won't be me, it's gon' be Y-O-U You mad 'cause the David Yurman on my b*t*h, not on you All that exotic a flower force, I'm at Fontainebleau, b*t*h new Boy, that lean was fake, all he heard was, "I'm good" Better not get to close to me in traffic, I pop your hood b*t*h gon' get too wet for me, a napkin won't do no good I'm not worried 'bout nothin' ain't gon' happen when in your hood Four-door sedan sittin' in sand, need to be washed by hand b*t*h want bags look better than Birkins, gotta be made by hand, yeah Two hundred grand in all hundreds, and they gotta be blue (Gotta be new) I stay with a bad b*t*h, yeah, that gotta be true (Gotta be true) I must've hopped out in Off-White (My b*t*h must've hopped out in Off-White) I got twenty grand gone on my off-night (Got twenty grand gone on my off-night) Run up, it's gon' look like an off light (Richie Bux) Yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah, ayy I might just hop out in all chrome, yeah, ayy Leave me a thug at the crossroads, needles, sweats Boy, I'll leave a whole clip in your vest, yeah That boy like Bron when I go with the best You put me to sleep, I needed some rest Put me to sleep, I needed some rest Yeah, f**k with the drank, I needed that Tech Can you place your order to burden the next She prayin' for me, but I think it's a hex, yeah I'm f**kin' with Virgil and Christian Dior If you bust a play, we walk in the store, b*t*h, yeah Ayy Highest eleven, the Highest eleven, the Highest eleven, the Highest eleven, the closest to Heaven Highest eleven, the closest to Heaven Highest eleven, the closest to Heaven
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