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letra de fashion nova - itsmarsyadig

[intro]
free mani
aye, free mani
what, what, yeah

[chorus]
walk in with a fashion nova b-tch (ya dig)
jeweler spilled some champagne on my wrist (what, hold up)
spilled in on my kicks
all my brothers keep a drum boy and i ain’t talking kick
and i keep dodging the cops, always riding with a zip
if she coming to my house then she leaving with a limp
chains sound like a cymbal when i’m walking through that b-tch
no sound keep it civil when i’m walking through that b-tch (yeah, yeah)

[verse 1]
smell my ysl (wait, hold up)
dolce on the shelf (wait, hold up)
i don’t wanna tell (wait, hold up)
everything i know (wait, hold up)
young mars, cool, the cat
see me out like who is that
put bags on a raft (what)
spend it all (what), make it back
plug only take cash
go straight to an atm (ya dig)
if your girl like me boy, it ain’t my fault (yeah)
i don’t really care when i do what i want (yeah)
went to school high and i almost got caught (bee)
number nine cover up the tat on my arm
thinking she’s in love though (what, what)
no you not in love hoe (what, wha )
naw, naw, she don’t want a punk though
naw, naw, she don’t want a punk though
[chorus]
walk in with a fashion nova b-tch (ya dig)
jeweler spilled some champagne on my wrist (what, hold up)
spilled in on my kicks
all my brothers keep a drum boy and i ain’t talking kick
and i keep dodging the cops, always riding with a zip
if she coming to my house then she leaving with a limp
chains sound like a cymbal when i’m walking through that b-tch
no sound keep it civil when i’m walking through that b-tch (yeah, yeah)

[verse 2]
plug only take cash
go straight to an atm
why your shawty f-cking with a rockstar
on mars, sipping on that wokhardt yeah
i can turn a b-tch into a popstar yeah (i swear)
chopper in the closet like a monster yeah (like a monster)
in the cut (yuh)
look at me (bee)
no lames (no)
over here (over here)
all this water (what)
drowning in the sea (what)
chasing guap
i don’t even sleep
[chorus]
walk in with a fashion nova b-tch (ya dig)
jeweler spilled some champagne on my wrist (what, hold up)
spilled in on my kicks
all my brothers keep a drum boy and i ain’t talking kick
and i keep dodging the cops, always riding with a zip
if she coming to my house then she leaving with a limp
chains sound like a cymbal when i’m walking through that b-tch
no sound keep it civil when i’m walking through that b-tch (yeah, yeah)

- itsmarsyadig

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