Lyrics Put That Shit On - Gunna , Yung Booke

Told her to put that shit on
Told her to put that shit on
(Ayy, Manzo, we got a hit, boy)
Young Gunna, Young Gunna the one
(Ooh, Bi-Bighead on the beat)

Dark-ass shades, haters can't see my face
Secure my vibe, hater get out my space
Foreign my car, hold on, foreign my bitch, okay
Big-ol' guns, hitters on deck, don't play
Just checking my funds, now my words you gummy you gum
Heart frozen, you can tell I'm a product of the motherfucking slums
Strap in my palms, gorilla in the streets, yeah, [?]
Comme des Garçons with the Rick Owens
On me, show 'em how to put this shit on

I'ma show 'em how put this shit on
Fashion show at Louis Vuitton
I put Dior on my Jordan 1's
I put the Rolls Royce droptop down
Got a nice breeze and I feel the sun
Biscotti weed coming out my lungs
Get a lot of G's, I can spend 'em for fun
You can never see now I'm one over one
Young Gunna, Young Gunna the one
He talking real tough like he never been stung
I hope that lil' boy know I come with a gun
Slimy and shady, don't back down for none
I count up it daily, unlimited funds
The money is savage the money gon' come
I still got a habit, they thought I was done

Dark-ass shades, haters can't see my face
Secure my vibe, hater get out my space
Foreign my car, hold on, foreign my bitch, okay
Big-ol' guns, hitters on deck, don't play
Just checking my funds, now my words you gummy you gum
Heart frozen, you can tell I'm a product of the motherfucking slums
Strap in my palms, gorilla in the streets, yeah, manage your own
Comme des Garçons with the Rick Owens
On me, show 'em how to put this shit on