It's personal
(I did not have fresh tarragon, so I subbed the dried version, but recommend the fresh if you have it!)
Satin and jersey: Versatile options for spring or autumn weather
[Instrumental Interlude: Mike Dean Guitar Solo] [Verse 3: Rick Ross] Lookin' at my bitch, I bet she give your ass a bone Lookin' at my wrist, it'll turn your ass to stone Stretch limousine, sipping ros all alone Double-headed monster with a mind of his own Cherry-red chariot, excess is just my character All-black tux, nigga's shoes lavender I never needed acceptance from all you outsiders Had cyphers with Yeezy before his mouth wired (Uh) Before his jaw shattered, climbing up the Lord's ladder We still speedin', running signs like they don't matter, uh Hater talkin' never made me mad Never that, not when I'm in my favorite paper tag Therefore, G4s at the Clearport When it come to tools, fool, I'm a Pep Boy When it came to dope, I was quick to export Never tired of ballin', so it's on to the next sport New Mercedes sedan, the Lex' sport So many cars, DMV thought it was mail fraud Different traps I was gettin' mail from Polk County, Jacksonville, right in Melbourne Whole clique appetites had tapeworms Spinnin' Teddy Pendergrass vinyl as my J burns I shed a tear before the night's over God bless the man I put this ice over (Uh) Getting 2Pac money twice over Still a real nigga, red Coogi sweater, dice-roller I'm makin' love to the angel of death Catchin' feelings, never stumble, retracin' my steps (Uh) [Outro: Rick Ross] Uh Uh About Have the inside scoop on this song
Aw, man, I really wanted to love this shirt! she said
