More songs by Slayyyter
Description
Composer, Associated Performer, Lyricist: Slayyyter
Composer, Lyricist: Austin Dale Corona
Producer, Composer, Lyricist, Recording Engineer: Wyatt Bernard
Recording Engineer, Producer: Austin Corona
Mixing Engineer: Clint Gibbs
Mastering Engineer: Randy Merrill
Lyrics and translation
Original
Money, drugs, chains on my chest, bag, vintage Celine.
Diamond grills, champagne bottles, swagger, I bleed. I want sex, money, bitches, and the stickiest weed.
I want a cigarette! So I wanna talk with ease, I'm over all it.
Don't try nothing with me, boy, I don't want it.
You should go and get with her, she's better for you. Baby, I'm not that girl, don't want no loving from you.
Don't try nothing with me, oh, I don't want it. You should go and get with her, oh, oh, she's better for you.
Let her just be your girl, boy, I don't want you.
I don't want loving, I bet I want it. Sex, money, drugs, chains on my chest, vintage Celine.
Diamond grills, champagne bottles, I get for free.
I want sex, money, bitches, and the stickiest weed. Fuck, I'm going to his closet, steal some of his Supreme. I want feet of
Chanels, I want good personnel. I wanna dye my hair every pretty shade of pastel.
I want nasty after-parties, hang up at the motel.
I want feet of Chanels, I want something for real. Don't, don't, don't. . . I don't give a damn.
Don't you understand? I've been down, so don't come around.
I see you know you want it. Yeah, I'm not going for it.
Listen to this, you really want a chance? Sorry, man, not a fan. You looking when I dance.
Keep your hands out your pants. I never really want it.
You know that all I want is. . .
All I want is money, drugs, chains on my chest, bag, vintage Celine. Diamond grills, champagne bottles, swagger, I bleed.
I want sex, money, bitches, and the stickiest weed. I want a cigarette!
Money, drugs, chains on my chest, bag, vintage Celine.
Diamond grills, champagne bottles, swagger, I bleed.
I want sex, money, bitches, and the stickiest weed. I want a cigarette!
Sex, money, drugs, chains on my chest, vintage Celine. Diamond grills, champagne bottles, I get for free.
I want sex, money, bitches, and the stickiest weed.
Fuck, I'm going to his closet, steal some of his Supreme. I want feet of Chanels, I want good personnel.
I wanna dye my hair every pretty shade of pastel.
I want nasty after-parties, hang up in the motel. I want feet of Chanels, I want something for real.
Feet of Chanels, I want something for real.
Feet of Chanels,
I want something for real.
Feet of Chanels, I want something for real