Lyrics Jarren Benton – Designer Belts
Text:
Yeah
Yeah nigga tell a friend, bitch
Money over bitches while the world still spinning
Yeah, forever terminating trash
Fuck my slave name, I’m switching it to a emblem
I never trust the system investin’ in private prisons
As long as I’m breathing I’m probably the live that’s livin’
Name a nigga’ iller than me, I’ll wait
They ain’t fucking with the God, how, Sway?
Fuck these labels I bet I leave with my masters
Black lives never matter as long as I’m eating rappers
Rest in pissed, I never honour you chumps
These nigga’s swagger jagger, I trust my money in trunks
Click, click, blaow
Put you niggas in a permenant slump
Never smell no wierd odors when I’m burning a blunt
Yeah, they be like «Mr.Benton you quite odd.»
Atheist, I never pray for no white God
No disrespect for my white folks
But they be like «We want that old Jarren, The psycho.»
Since my nigga died, I ain’t been the same
Fuck the schizo, pussy nigga, come feel this pain
I got family in Flint, Michigan
These motherfuckers poison the water to get rid of them
A couple bucks will make your life switch
I don’t trust the government, my wife know my side bitch
Yeah, a nigga crying for help
A taste for suicide I hang from designer belts
Yeah, God bless America, if it ain’t your own then the pigs gon’ come and bury ya niggas
Right hand over my strap. My country sits on bigger things. Sweet land of living
Complain about bullshit while niggas do fed’ time
Some niggas that got clipped got nothing but bed time
You voted for Donald Trump, your vote was a hatecrime
The world looking Strange, dawg, I ride with a Tech Nine
I’m coming with the facts involved, taxin’ y’all, so call me when the straps involved
Talkin trash, pat the party with the action, dawg. Fo’ fo’ ways kids like they jackin’ off
Swear a nigga wanted to flip, I was nice with basketball still a wanted a prick
Got the brand new fives, still I want me a six
Like a nigga got a wife and still I want me yo bitch
Sold crack on the corner and back to back with them foreigners
I put my mind to it and got it right off the tour
Still they pull me over like, «What the fuck is you doing?»
?
What drug is you movin’
Dang man, I want these niggas dead
Put his arms to his head, he be Mr.Potato head. A nigga been feared, but never fuck with the feds
We killin’ everything, I hope you niggas prepared
On a lighter note, Niggas still coming with the fire, though
Burnin’ up the trees getting higher than Mariah Notes
Mink coat killa’ with the drug deala’
Sum it all up, fuck a fuck nigga
