What’s up, what’s up, what’s up
They bless all my songs
Colder than your baby mama
I get to the Met on a pony
Versace style coming out of the alley
We strut custom Dior in the colmadón
With a Gucci thong on the back of a motorbike
I take the whole mall loaded on a truck
I match red with pink
I dress as a bride but I'm not your wife
And if today I wear fake clothes
It's because I'm the realest
Bish, I think I'm Dapper Dan
I give myself a thrift flow, I look original
I'm the priciest brand that you can't cop
It was the Roman-, it was the Roman-
Colale it was the Roman-, hmmm
My *ss shows in Versace
Was—out of the underworld, out
Colale, cola-, colale, mmm, mmm, mmm
My *ss shows in Versace
My *ss shows in Versace
From the underworl-, from the underworl-