Velvet ropes

Velvet ropes, marble floors where I float (I float)

Vintage frames, sippin’ wine on the boat (Facts)

Silk on my skin, got the mink for the coat (For real)

If it ain’t about a bag, then it’s murder she wrote (Bye)

Gold on my teeth, still preach from the street (Uh)

I was raised by the hustle, now I dress like a priest (Ayy)

All black suit, got the fit on fleek

She don’t want love, just the life on repeat (Skrrt)

Look, I’m in Paris eatin’ crepes with the clique (Oui)

My aura glowin’ like a Basquiat print (Drip)

Used to rock gold fronts, now it’s pearls on the wrist (Bling)

Took the pain from the block, turned it into a gift (Woo)

Shrooms in the tea, see the world through a lens (Psychedelic)

Sippin’ on sin, got Chanel in the Benz

She asked if I’m lonely, I told her it depends

I got demons in Dior, but they dressed like friends (Ghosts)

Velvet ropes, marble floors where I float

Vintage frames, sippin’ wine on the boat (Yacht life)

Silk on my skin, got the mink for the coat

If it ain’t about a bag, then it’s murder she wrote (Click clack)

Gold on my teeth, still preach from the street

I was raised by the hustle, now I dress like a priest

All black suit, got the fit on fleek

She don’t want love, just the life on repeat

Uh, Flacko, I don’t follow the script

I’m the glitch in the matrix, I’m the switch in the whip

Got your girl off a vibe, wasn’t even the drip

Told her “Life is a movie”—she just needed a clip (Skrrt!)

Designer on my neck like I signed to the Louvre (Facts)

Still talk slick like I rhyme in the booth

Still got Harlem in my walk and the truth in my tooth

They don’t hate what I say—they just hate that it’s proof (Woo!)

No stylist, no cosign, no gimmicks (Nah)

Ten toes down from the start to the finish

I’m what happens when the pain turn vintage

Now every bar feel like a custom-fitted sentence (Flacko)

Velvet ropes, marble floors where I float

Vintage frames, sippin’ wine on the boat

Silk on my skin, got the mink for the coat

If it ain’t about a bag, then it’s murder she wrote

Gold on my teeth, still preach from the street

I was raised by the hustle, now I dress like a priest

All black suit, got the fit on fleek

She don’t want love, just the life on repeat