Slam Magazine Lyrics

Diamonds on me came with chance of flurries, I'm the weather man

Bitch I can't stop ballin, swear to God, I could've been a Cav

Clap on, clap off, bad bitch throwin' neck on cam

Bank account on super size, had to double check the math

Fuck I look like driving like your granny? Do the engine bad

Prolly with my niggas doing shit that I can't tell on wax

Uh, and I'm married to this money, get the wedding band

Bitch, I can't stop scoring feel like T-Mac, could've been in Slam

In my DNA, this shit ain't recent bitch, I been the man

VVS's on me shining bright, look like I'm wearing a lamp

Niggas hatin, watchin, sendin' shots, bet I send them back

We talkin' bout that chicken, get to dunkin' shit like Larry Nance

So much damn designer on my body like I went to France

Bad bitch tryna come through with her friend, okay, go head, get nasty

Wide body coupe came with some horses, feel like Meg the Stallion

Model hoe like can I have your kids, I ain't even met her parents

Spaceship coupe, finna take right off to Neverland

Can't stop takin' racks from out the bank, I know the teller mad

Walkin' outta Saks, could prolly use a second set of hands

Niggas tryna run off with the swag, fuck it let 'em have it

Diamonds on me came with chance of flurries, I'm the weather man

Bitch I can't stop ballin, swear to God, I could've been a Cav

Clap on, clap off, bad bitch throwin' neck on cam

Bank account on super size, had to double check the math

Fuck I look like driving like your granny? Do the engine bad

Prolly with my niggas doing shit that I can't tell on wax

Uh, and I'm married to this money, get the wedding band

Bitch, I can't stop scoring feel like T-Mac, could've been in Slam