Dim Sum
I don't know 'bout you but
I got my own money
Hundred thousand on me
In high fashion on me
Hey, hey, hey
I don't know 'bout you
I don't know 'bout you but
I got my own money
Hundred thousand on me
It's high fashion on me
Hey, hey, hey (Vino Valentino)
I don't know 'bout you
Me and Valee got the city hot
Valet the DB11 at Diddy's spot
I don't usually rap 'bout the shit I got
You a hater for a living, that's a shitty job
I just made two mil, I don't milly rock
My IG inbox is full of forget-me-nots
They know I got my own money
Handmade t-shirt, it's Off-White Murakami
Met her at Equinox, she got no tummy, hey
Cartier lenses, I see the fu shit 20/20, hey
You hate your life, you checkin' the price
I don't use Tinder, all I do is swipe
Glock 17 as I kiss you goodnight
I'm not seventeen, bitch, I don't want to fight
Just performed at Playhouse, left with a Play Bunny
Michael Jordan's Steakhouse, fillet, sautéed onions
He say he gon' rob me, he think he Davis, haha, that shit funny
Get your girl, she on my line, she forgot her panties, Vino
I don't know 'bout you but
I got my own money
Hundred thousand on me
In high fashion on me
Hey, hey, hey
I don't know 'bout you
I don't know 'bout you but
I got my own money
Hundred thousand on me
It's high fashion on me
Hey, hey, hey
I don't know 'bout you
Sittin' at the light, I rock Off-White
Four-door is white, my diamonds bright
Stayed up tonight, late up, you right
Yves St. Laurent, baby, you're mine
You trippin', yeah, I'm gon' leave you
Cross-shoulder Gucci knapsack, I see you
Promethazine with no ice, I don't need you
Push up in the driveway, no top, don't need you
Stop and wipe off my Margielas, they bleedin' (hey, yeah)
I'm off a Percocet 30, don't need it (yeah, huh)
That ain't no real Actavis, you can keep it (tuh, uh huh)
Your bitch top model, that's why she conceited (yeah, uh huh)
I can see shit clear
I rock the zones, I see the fu shit clear, hey
Hundred thousand on me, hey
I got my own money, yeah
I don't know 'bout you but
I got my own money
Hundred thousand on me
It's high fashion on me
Hey, hey, hey
I don't know 'bout you
I'm in the Ferrari Modena
I'm in that new Spider, this not a four seater
My bitch got an Aston Martin, no Gina
I painted my nails red, her hair red, paprika
Ooh, she need security, Brinks her
I took her to Catch, this ain't no Little Caesars
My Chinese bitches bad, they look like a Geisha
My African bitch bad, she pray to Orishas
I'm smokin' loud like an ice cream truck speakers
It's Halloween, I'm in Christian Dior creepers
This is not Pucci, this some Gucci sneakers
I don't know 'bout you, hey
I don't know 'bout you but
I got my own money
Hundred thousand on me
In high fashion on me
Hey, hey, hey