Rocky Diamonds - Forgive Me lyrics

(Verse 1) Look We lost fly and got flyier Spendin cash on E Polo White T and my Christian Dijon jeans Those jordan's don't impress me, I hoopin dem chicks f** fame and the versi's, I'm just tryin to get rich We lost fly and got flyier Spent cash all week Polo White T and my Christian Dior jeans Those jordan's don't impress me, I'm hoop in them sh**s f** fame and the Versace, I'm just tryin to get rich Look I come from the struggle Errbody rap bro, it's all about your hussle We only blow strong man we smoking on that muscle And b**hes ain't real, I don't love you cuz I don't trust you Uncle Skoot taught me that, I'm just a young n***a You try to mob man I hope you brought your guns wit cha My n***as hungry, They be juggin tryna make it out I'm livin proof that you could stunt and still be in the drought Just know I'm ridin for my n***as, they won't chalk me out I'm hittin hoes, I'm hittin stains in my Ferragamo Tell dem Thots I'm in the city Get a hundred bottles And I get high everyday cuz we might not see tomorrow Dem Shells hit you Asap if we got f**in problems (Hook) Aye you f**in wit a Young n***a Versace k**a Pop dat p**y like a drug girl Its M-O-B I bang the Mob We don't do love girl We just get money, f** dese b**hes and dey homegirls I'm buyin Fendi Please forgive me I'm a young n***a Versace k**a Pop dat p**y like a drug girl Its MOB I bang the Mob We don't do love girl We just get money, f** dese b**hes and dey homegirls I'm buyin Fendi Please forgive me (Verse 2) Look, Aye look that young n***a Rico One hunnid like a c-note Control sh** like a remote, Choppers big as D-bol Beat em down, I shoot cha down No squares when we come around We don't blow dem 50 sacks, b**h we smoke it by the pound Music weed guns loud Turnin up no turnin down I just spent your rent on shades, Bet dem b**hes see me now Errbody on tv, f** fame, lets get rich Like me rip, that's Hamilton Got dese hoes naked like Africans I rolled up dey pop beans All these hoes be doin dicks, all these thots be f**in tricks I mean so much, this sh** is sick Put that b**h on back page Bought the MOB J's the next day Don't be mad at her mane cuz she played your a** like 2k Last week we brought 2k's, been off the drink for 2 days My OG crib like a gun range My money fast like mustangs I'm sippin lean like Pimp C Runnin sh** like 6 feet Versace ring on my trigger finger When I shoot sh** it's still designer All these hoes want a hot boy, on fire, smoking fire Man we just some young n***as whose getting rich and getting high Cross da mob and you meeting God In the Fendi store like I need it all WNBA sh**, dey know all my b**hes ball Girl f** wit Young and I get your life together I'm a fly mothaf**er, I could prolly change the weather And I still don't get dress, I just put sh** together And a skirt is still a skirt, don't give a f** if dat b**h is leather (Hook x3)