Haute Couture

[Verse 1: RU$H]

Uh—

A hundred-thousand in the shoebox; I punch like Errol Spence and Ugas

We can get it poppin' with a few shots in the clip kickin' like Ong-Bak; who hot? (Woo!)

I might pull a grip out the tube sock, threw shots and wake up a few blocks (Grrt)

I'm in too deep (Uh), pass me the oo-wop to calm all that uncool ruckus like The Boondocks (That's a Fendi)

Uh— I take a puff of the moon rock, then hit 'em up like 2Pac (Grrt)

The squad and the crew hot; the way I'm rubbin' elbows'll raise a eyebrow, I'm the new Rock

Dude, stop (Stop) - you don't know the Fendi Don, you never knew Fah

Twin blickies on, that's two Glocks (Hahahaha)

With the grip, I give a round of Hpnotiq— what's that?

Blue shots out the Ferrari, I let the tool pop (Uh— Woo!)

[Verse 2: Tha God Fahim]

My temperament be legendary (Legendary)

We primary, no secondary; the .40 be my secretary (Secretary)

Paint the Porsche piss to complement the Canaries

I'm military-grade dangerous; they know my language

If it ain't big money, then we ain't speakin' the same shit (We not the same)

Executive package on the Benz, this ain't the same shit (We not the same)

Rolex came original, the scales was digital

Invested in the rap game, the change was pivotal

They say I'm so fly, it's criminal; I murder fashion

Even before the bag came in, I still was doin' 'em nasty

Now all we do is chauffeurs; I'll let you do the taxis

I'm great as the Gatsbys

Want a few pointers? Then just ask me