Flashy Lyrics

Yeah Yeah, couple of bands just for the jeans

Okay yeah yeah, couple of bands just for the scene

Okay oh yeah yeah, all of the bad bitches on me

Okay oh yeah yeah, couple of bands a couple of G's

I walk in the party in Prada jeans

Dropped a couple of bands, a couple of G's

Just a couple of bands on the body, I pull up real quick in that Maserati

Can't really see shit when I'm rocking that Cartier

Give a fuck bout the face, give me body yeah

Fuck the small talk let's get nasty

Girl fuck small talk, ain't no need to be classy

I run up the money, I flash it at parties

And I got a bad bitch on my side, she a barbie

I'm living my life in the hills okay

LA in the muh'fuckin hills okay

Look at all of this money, errday it's gon rain

I'm keeping it cool but I'll still catch a stain

I'ma beast at the core but I'm keeping it tamed

Run down on a nigga, let him keep his chain

They like "Nae chill out, girl you too flashy"

Got a personal driver, I sit in the backseat

All the opposition niggas hating from taxis

And the car so fast, nigga you'll never pass me

Yeah smoking that loud, smoking that ganja

We sippin' that paint, we sippin' the wok

And the blunt so big yeah we smoking Uganda

Got ya boy in this blunt, that nigga got popped

Okay oh yeah yeah, couple of bands a couple of G's

I walk in the party in Prada jeans

Dropped a couple of bands, a couple of G's

Just a couple of bands on the body, I pull up real quick in that Maserati

Can't really see shit when I'm rocking that Cartier

Give a fuck bout the face, give me body yeah

I walk in the party in Prada jeans

Dropped a couple of bands, a couple of G's

Just a couple of bands on the body, I pull up real quick in that Maserati

Can't really see shit when I'm rocking that Cartier

Give a fuck bout the face, give me body yeah

Fuck the small talk let's get nasty

Girl fuck small talk, ain't no need to be classy

I hang with them gangers, I tell em to throw it up

They throwing up B's and C's okay

If you came in the club and you making them rackies

Go throw it up, let us all see it okay

And I'm serving that fye, I'm serving them packs

Last nigga talked down, ended up in a pack

Yeah the nigga talked down, ended up in a blunt

We smoking that boy like we smoke on the runtz

They like "Nae chill out, girl you too flashy"

Got a personal driver, I sit in the backseat

All the opposition niggas hating from taxis

And the car so fast, nigga you'll never pass me

Yeah smoking that loud, smoking that ganja

We sippin' that paint, we sippin' the wok

And the blunt so big yeah we smoking Uganda

Got ya boy in this blunt, that nigga got popped

Okay oh yeah yeah, couple of bands a couple of G's

I walk in the party in Prada jeans

Dropped a couple of bands, a couple of G's

Just a couple of bands on the body, I pull up real quick in that Maserati

Can't really see shit when I'm rocking that Cartier

Give a fuck bout the face, give me body yeah