Mr. Put That Shit On

[Intro: CyHi] You bums ain't fresh like me, boy You niggas need a stylist [Chorus: Pusha T & CyHi] Gucci, Vlone, I put that shit on, yeah Chrome Hearts, Bottega, I put it on, yeah Tennis chains, VVS, this neck froze, yeah I be stylin' on niggas, I put it on, yeah Off-White, 350s, I put it on, yeah Louis V's and Bode, I put it on, yeah Richard Mille Bonbon, Rick Owens, yeah I be stylin' on niggas, I put it on, yeah [Verse 1: CyHi] Yeah, huh, Salvatore Ferragamo The restoration hardware inside the George Condo It cost a G for this plaided Burberry poncho Amiri, Yves Saint Laurent coat Side note, must be on heroin thinkin' thеy don't fear the God flow Virgil Abloh, I'm rockin' no Aeropostalе Nigo, Kenzo model, Phoebe, I don't follow I wear Riccardo, got Tisci inside my cargo Fendi button down, they thought I was Pablo in Narcos I call my girl like, "I brought some Dior home" (Hey, babe) And she thought I really bought her some Dior Homme Juicy Couture, we got Gucci velour on Somethin' vintage from Mauricio, Gucci divorce homes Cartier earth tones, same color her birth stone Bergdoff furs and they as long as a church song Plus she draggin' the Louis duffle, big old goofy buckle She chuckle when people say that we just the cutest couple And I could tell by your purse game if your nigga truly loved you So many bags, only if you knew the struggle Still got the ones that she had when she used to fuck you And she said (Yeah, nigga, when I used to fuck you) Well, she want that Birkin, that's gon' cost a few thousand at least I took homegirl on a shoppin' spree, she end up stylin' me New Bally sneaks, you couldn't walk a mile in these Rockin' arenas before I knew what Balenciaga mean Bitch, I was clean when [Chorus: Pusha T & CyHi] I put that shit on, yeah (Yeah) Chrome Hearts, Bottega, I put it on, yeah (Uh-huh) Tennis chains, VVS, this neck froze, yeah (Wow) I be stylin' on niggas, I put it on, yeah Off-White, 350s, I put it on, yeah Louis V's and Bode, I put it on, yeah Richard Mille Bonbon, Rick Owens, yeah I be stylin' on niggas, I put it on, yeah I put that shit on [Verse 2: CyHi] Yeah, uh, Black Berluti tux', she got a Givenchy gown Can't fuck with these squares, they just a bunch of clowns I think it's rude these Stussys rather I stay underground So tell Giorgio that we need our money now Only wear Thom Browne when I'm in the country town Nieman's, we shut it down, you seen what happen to Barney's Proud of my women, they know they gotta Goyard me Went and got a BBL, now she all in Bvlgari I Bathing Ape before I fell in the party Loewe and Marni, brand new Arnault Bernard piece The Ermenegildo Zegna Shorty, you got Alexander, but he never Vera Wang-ed you (Nah, never Vera Wang'd you) So the next time the Met Ball is where the Mets ball Or the Nets all, I'll address y'all in a dress-off in the best cloth Low cholesterol, she even look good with her dress off Yes, God, I'm rockin' Tom Ford with the dress socks Huh, private jets when Mr. West call From the mess hall, I'm havin' TED talk with my legs crossed I don't wear Crocs, red bottoms for my best broad The only time you catch me in some Nikes if they deadstock Otherwise, I don't [Chorus: Pusha T & CyHi] Put that shit on, yeah Chrome Hearts, Bottega, I put it on, yeah Tennis chains, VVS, this neck froze, yeah (Wow) I be stylin' on niggas, I put it on, yeah Off-White, 350s, I put it on, yeah Louis V's and Bode, I put it on, yeah Richard Mille Bonbon, Rick Owens, yeah I be stylin' on niggas, I put it on, yeah [Interlude] You say, "Drippin''" and "Drip," but we don't say that shit no more in Atlanta, man, we say, "Shorty got that shit on" Put that shit on Yeah, shorty go Gucci to the floor Yeah, shorty go Louis Yeah, shorty go— yeah, yeah, you puttin' that shit on [Verse 3: CyHi] Yeah, the Maison Margiela of the Moncler-er I'll check her, 'Tega Veneta just to offset her God bless her, Farfetch-er, extra small sweater I'm a Comme des Garçons wearer, gotta to keep my heart tethered My pallbearers all steppers, ex-cartelers Leave niggas laid across stretchers for a small gesture Whose squad fresher? Old heads say I'm a sharp dresser I'm so for real, I can't even sing in falsetto The Dolce & Gabbana, Marcelo Burloner Just left Sierra Leone for my future baby mama Somebody go tell Uncle Ben that I ain't Jemima I'm an Yves Saint Laurent-er, Balmain persona Lanvin made the jeans, shorty, these ain't McQueen You was in the streets, what? But this ain't Supreme 'Cause the way they paint the scene, shorty, this ain't Moschin' Haters hate to see me clean in the suede Celine [Outro] Haters hate to see me clean in this suede Celine Haters hate to see me clean in this suede Celine Haters hate to see me clean I put it on