Lyrics WILLY WONKA - Pertinence

This life here, I'm a vibe pioneer
Flight to Budapest, private jet lear
Message at the tone gettin dome hard to steer
Fucking in the mirror, she be wearing mickey ears
I'm a double entendre, King Kong conqueror
Slide on the beat like Jesus on water
Since I was a niño, swear my life bonkers
Top hat swag, velvet jacket, Willy Wonka

Boy he hot
But I haven't sweat in centuries
D'usse shots, blood pumping' John Kennedy
Boy he hot
Big bag don't be mad at me
Kid went pop, now the wrist got vanity
Boy he hot
I don't think y'all understanding me
Three car garage, four cars, a calamity
No caveats, at the restaurant casually
New kids bop, new rich identity

Put it on the pinky ring
Ladies say, "got damn"
Pause on the gemstones
Jim Jones, robbed em'
Rolled and I slipped blows
Rose outta Gotham
Hoes and the nymphos
Oh man I got them
Boogy to the beat
Lil buddy lend a ear
Liquor before beer
Baby bubba then you're clear
You could have it all
A Givenchy chandelier
Live a 100 years, If you never live in fear

Boy he hot
But I haven't sweat in centuries
D'usse shots, blood pumping' John Kennedy
Boy he hot
Big bag don't be mad at me
Kid went pop, now the wrist got vanity
Boy he hot
I don't think y'all understanding me
Three car garage, four cars, a calamity
No caveats, at the restaurant casually
New kids bop, new rich identity

Doug Dimmadome
Went an bought an El Camino
Used to know a chump got wrapped by the prenup
Know a couple chaps got wrapped by a female
Me I can't do that get back no subpoenas
Got a bubba on my wrist it look sick when I'm at the keynote
No Adidas on my feet no no never no NMD ho
No opinions nah uh
We know we on the way to the final
I do keto get amnios, I'm built like a superhero
Dom Pérignon please, I'm dining at Francine
A couple of more drinks they taking my cars keys
Like Jesus
I don't need respect just believers
Long as in the end they spend 10 on a t-shirt

One little bitch I'm doing it full time
Two needa rinse I'm covered in court fines
Three with the clique a fit and some pork rinds
Four in the mix we gettin' lit oh god

Boy he hot
But I haven't sweat in centuries
D'usse shots, blood pumping' John Kennedy
Boy he hot
Big bag don't be mad at me
Kid went pop, now the wrist got vanity
Boy he hot
I don't think y'all understanding me
Three car garage, four cars, a calamity
No caveats, at the restaurant casually
New kids bop, new rich identity