Armoire lyrics

by

Marsha Ambrosius


[Verse 1: Curren$y]
For Cuban linx
Yellow gold, January cold, my mink
I'm from the the school of old, check out my ring
I won a super bowl of hash,I saw the Mona Lisa blink
Not falling off my ass
Cause I lean like the Tower of Pisa on stained glass
At the church, funeral services for this beat
n*ggas tryna steal my style, I can hear 'em in my sleep
Like young thieves outside tryna break in your Z
28 or your Double S, they hit your Trans-Am
For your big nose hood and you know them fools man
And I swear that ain't no good, but I'm not surprised
Cause it's all fair in the game
Of f*cking these b*tches due to your street fame
This sh*t's wicked, deserves a doc*mentary
Deadstocks on my feet, I'm walking ancient history
n*ggas is beast hype, tryna be like what we write
Ain't nothing but that Jet Life

[Hook: Trademark (& Young Roddy)]
I'm talking stacks in the walls, floors, ceilings
A house made of money, feel what I'm building
(Cause this rap sh*t just my hustle baby, we paper chasing)
(Cause this rap sh*t just my hustle baby, we paper chasing)
I'm talking pounds in the fridge, hundred stack in the armoire
Constant reminders of what the f*ck we grind for
(Cause this rap sh*t just my hustle baby, we paper chasing)
(Cause this rap sh*t just my hustle baby, we paper chasing)
[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Still at it, Jet Set mathematics
I'm, from the city of choppers clappers and levee crackage
All levels completed, b*tch I'm All-Madden
Smoking out the E-Class wagon
It's just that "to the airport" action, I am more Mr. 2 Door
Still running triple O game on my new hoes
More than one time was I told that I was too cold
Gucci Mane, tryna be grizzly burr on these hoes
Foundation laid, and from that, a mansion rose
When my driver bring yo b*tches home, ask her how that Caddy roll
You can tell that she was with daddy, just smell her clothes
Money and smoke, that's all I know

[Hook]
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