Vivienne Peacoat

[Intro: DC2Trill]
Phew
(Nick on the track)
Gotta dig it

[Verse 1: DC2Trill]
Vivienne Westwood peacoat
.223s, big smoke
Your bitch got a deep throat
RPs, no repos
Lil' Moe just threw a party, you know that's where the freaks go (Yeah)
Treat designer like Ed Hardy, I throw that shit all on the floor (Phew)
Ali got them Oxys cheap, you know he bring the Percs for sure
Matty Boy up on my jacket, hood bitch probably got a big-ass chrome
Shooters, know I keep 'em with me
Hot points, you gon' catch 'em near me
I'm icy, know this shit look tempting
But try it, you gon' catch a fifty
Martine got me looking spiffy (Phew)
Niggas mouse like Mickey
Your bitch a snitch, so she Minnie
Your OG too, she Miss Piggy (Phew)
Already told you once, bitch, you can't leave me no hickey (Phew)
Take the roof up off this bitch, I'm high right to the ceiling
Know I'm high as the fuck when I'm in them hills and I fuck on them models
Talking to this bougie bitch, she pulled up to Jack Harlow (Dig?)
Your pints ain't got no barcodes
Gen5, yeah, we tote those
Your boy look like a hobo
He need to get some cashflow

[Verse 2: Rio Da Yung OG]
I went in the crib to grab the weed, ran out the back door
This nigga Peezy got straight out the feds like, "Where the Act' go?"
Can't believe you kicked my cup over, we gotta scrap, bro
I can fuck the baddest bitches in my city, I wanna rap though
Mad as hell I wasted all that time, I wanna stack dough
You ain't really out here active, what the fuck you got a strap for?
Ha, let me get that
I'm blunt as hell, pulled her to the side like, "Let me hit that"
I got seven 'bows of some Gorilla Glue, give me ten stacks
Aw shit, he threw another brick, but I ain't with Shaq
You know I'm part of the Sinaloa Cartel
Bust an old K, when he run, he did a cartwheel
I only poured a deuce in a sixteen ounce, but it's dark still
And hell nah, this is not no Tris, had a Wock' seal
Dog threw a shot and hit his head, he gettin' popped still
Whether we pour a twenty ounce or a big pop, it's gettin' dropped still

[Verse 3: RMC Mike]
.50 BMG bullets big, we call 'em pop can
Dropped a hunderd in the car, the nigga body look like chopped ham
Met the plug with heavy metal on me, he on the rock band
Sixteen ounce Sprite or Mountain Dew is what we drop in
Lou' got a brand new 560, I wanna drop head
Drunk all the Wock', bro called, said he got some snot in
Cooling kit on Baby Ghost's chop, he got a hot head
Playing with that Glock got me nervous, one up top, yeah
Ghetto Boy navy, I'll get a nigga popped for free
You a petty sipper, nigga sittin' around pourin' a lot of threes
I grinded hard for this hundred K, didn't hit the lottery
Told your ass the truth from the jump, now why you lie to me?
Sorry, niggas can't come back to the hood because I'm robbin' 'em
Told Boat I'm coming to the A, he like, "No problem"
Got the head raw, but she won't fuck without no condom
I like to hit her from the back while she screaming out, "Wakanda"