Vain Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Call me Hugo 'cause I got the sauce
'Cause a loophole, god damn, I’m the boss
Got them shooters, give your squad a loss
Fuck them Judas, I’ll still go on the cross
I'm out here doing lines once or twice
I'm bringing bitches back at the roll of dice
Seeing if she wants to end up in paradise
I just hope I don't catch a pair of dykes
There's an 8 ball on my back
And it's very tall, my bottle of Jack
We Better Call Saul, if we see some plaques
Broad loves to bawl down on my sack
Only numbers allowed are nine and ten
And they can only bring their hottest friends
Down a bottle of henny
Fuck a bitch in a Louis Cardigan
100 models in my bed I just committed a Geo Car again
Born confident, not cocky, but y'all can't tell the difference
I got a whole army of bitches, I call them militants
When they talk though, its hard to gain my diligence
I'm the new face of money, so they call me magnificent
As a matter of fact, when I'm done with history
They'll plaster me on all the money
So my grandkids could walk to the bank, take me out, ain't that somethin' funny
I've become the Van Gogh of polyphonic prose
Got your girl on her knees in between rows
A whole lot of make up messed up without any clothes
Ain’t that just the way this shit goes
[Verse 2]
I went to the hotel with a couple strippers
A couple white girls and a couple Millers
You could tell some of them were quite kissers
As you could tell, I'm covered in glitter
Now if Geo does blow in a boat with a versace coat
How much of this wet pussy you think could float
Just enough so I could gloat
One liners so everybody already sayin' I'm the G.O.A.T
Now all my friends are saying "Geo's getting so much pussy, that his netflix account is full of unfinished movies"
Even when I'm getting insulted by these introvert newbies
Who can't even get any pussy without using roofies
When I get on the mic and spit a verse or three
That's when heat seeking missiles start detecting me
Only dumbass faggots disrespectin' me
Walking trendsetter, these faggots pay to copy me
Champagne bottles and lines of clear
If I rocked a turtleneck sweater I'd still end up as GQ's Man Of The Year
While faggots come out here talking about how only God they fear
Well dawg, I'm right fuckin' here