Dior Christ

[Intro]
(Damn, Fraudskiii, you fucking em up)
Bitch

[Verse]
Christian Dior on, feel like Jesus Christ
Diamonds in the white buffs, all I see is ice
Bro addicted to the juice, think he need a pint
How the fuck I fail English? All I do is read and write
Boy, and that's no lie
Told her I just want the neck like a bowtie
Two Glocks, push the buffies up, I'm four-wide
Palm Angels off the Christians like I know God
Keep a cannon with the flash like I'm [?], I'll pop you
Tell a bitch that if the head right, I'll pop you
Underneath the Glock a red light, I'll stop you
Boogers in the buffies, you would think I said achoo
I ain't gotta sneeze to get blessed by your bitch though
I remember days sliding tracks 'til my wrist swole
Had to punch just to get a slice, feel like Kimbo
All gas even though the cap break's Brembo
That don't mean I'm slowing down (Nah)
Yung Joc, catch the opps, it's going down
I don't box, up the Glock, here go some rounds
Looking for the giffy, shit, there go the aisle
Boy, who you talking 'bout? Who you speaking on?
They ain't put no food up on my plate, I had to eat alone
Finna wake 'em up like, who the fuck they sleeping on?
Glock mandatory, you catch me out, you know I keep it on
In a Striker tryna smoke a opp, roll up
Neck amazing, had to tell your bitch to hold up
Balenciaga got my sneakers throwing fours up
Stick got the flash, if I catch, you better pose, bruh
V12 underneath the hood, who you finna race?
I just heard somebody say it's smoke like, who you finna face?
Money on the floor, I'm spinning bitches, boo, you in the way
If it ain't the Glock or ARP, gon' shoot you with a Drac'
He keep asking 'bout his lil' bitch, oh, she with Stan probably
Thousand dollar jeans, stuffing money in my pants sloppy
I know if the Runtz ever dry up, then the fans got me
White buffs, Off-White hoodie, think the clan got me, huh

[Outro]
ShittyBoyz, Dog Shit Militia, that's on every song