Pur3 Evil

My body in Prada from Italy
White gold on my teeth ain't no silver teeth
Gave my shooter a perc he was fidgety
30 bands on me like a trilogy
Where I'm from we didn't know shit but misery
I love money just look what it did for me
It's crazy that racks were my missing piece
I spin his block with no sympathy
They talk all that talk where they gon go
Where they gon hide when I pull up they fold
The people around me never break the code
They know if they do I'll put em in a holе
All of my diamonds they glow
You just a bitch I know
My shooter off white likе snow
He gon make sure that you pay what you owe
I ain't call bro ina while
His phone got tapped by the feds
I got work I got white by the pile
He touch my bread end up dead
They can say what they want I just want a check
Designer on me black and white like a ref
What color he wearing Imma turn it red
He gon leave a stain on the ground where he bled
You can hold me to everything that I just said
I don't gotta do shit just put bread on your head
I dropped outta school how the fuck could I focus
My dad was in jail he was facing like 10
I don't know how to fold I don't bend
Pick a side get off of the fence
I got too much so of course imma spend
I'm good for a while I've been thinking ahead
Don't play their music around me it's trash
Just left the bank I'm dissecting a stack
I get a bag and I run through it fast
I don't give a fuck cause it's coming right back
Then I do it again and again and again
They ain't flexin shit it's hard not to laugh
I see you outside then we gonna clash
I can’t wait till I turn em into ash
I was in Mexico making American bands
I can't get enough I can't relax
Sweet life I feel like Zach
They thought they was it and got left in the past
I'm in LA in a coupe, it's black
Don't got nothin to recoup no advance
I fuckin hate when they hold out they hands
Asking for sh (I'm so sorry)
I bet if I made it right now
And they found out they'd be all on my dick
But I forgive I never forget
I told you I'm making a list, I told you that I would be rich
My own blood switched
Honest to God I didn't think they would snitch
Blades in my back, the feds in the crib
Fuck em I don't think I spoke to them since
That's probably why I can never trust shit
Cuban links I got racks on my wrist
I was broke I was looking for bliss
If I take a shot then I probably won't miss
My Glock flirty it's gon blow you a kiss
I keep a strap I ain't using my fist
We not the same we never gon click
Honest to God I forgot you exist