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letra de vanity - roc marciano

[intro]
i mean, yeah, baby
yeah, f-ck with that?
me too

[verse]
first off, the shirt smell like maison francis kurkdjian
burned down bergdorf, merging john
flirting with some old broad in dior, i’m a sauvage
ain’t no tracee ellis rosses up at ross
maybe erewhon and balenciaga erewhon
what’s that scent you wearing, is that grand soir?
is that porsche you call your car, all that enfants you got on
you trying to trauma bond, crying inside the prada store
like a spoiled little mama’s boy, rocking joggers like a tomboy
aaliyah with the tommy boxers on
n-ggas thought they was watching me fall off for so long, they ran out of popcorn
sodas, nachos, and hot dogs (hot dogs) (hot dogs)
my sh-t hit different, i look better than b-tches
said to her listen, beauty isn’t gender specific
the only thing feminine about me is the sentence by clive christian
one would think that i was trying to find religion, but god body don’t shop at true religion
the truth was written in plain sight, it was hidden
the range nice, cocaine white, like pagan women
never pay to hit, we some ladyk!llers, mercedes 680 whippers
whipping like ye in the kitchen, n-gga
[interlude]
yeah, you bum ass n-ggas ought to be ashamed of yourselves, man
and y’all f-cked the cubans up, too

[outro]
mirror, mirror on the wall, i wish you could talk
dog, i put that sh-t on
i’m sh-tting where i want, like a dog, i should be getting walked
i p-ss on the floor in dior and louis vuitton
i sh-t on the floor in dejeun and yves saint laurent
i do what the f-ck i want in isabel marant
then run up in lanvin and pull a stunt
my b-tch could suck a bullet out a… arm

- roc marciano

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