Blood On My Denim - A Boogie Wit da Hoodie

Walkin' 'round with two Glizzys in my pocket

Already cocked it, flip a nigga like a socket (Socket)

Nigga, way before the fame we was wildin'

Then they killed my nigga Quado in the projects (Projects)

And it’s a shame, all the bitches that was curvin'

I see the same damn names in my comments (Comments)

She was lookin' O.D.

from a side eye

Said she ain’t an eater, oh she lied, oh she lied-lied

Woke up to three bitches in my bed

Made me say it three times, «Oh you fine, oh you fine-fine»

I ain’t rockin' with no ho niggas or a bozo

That’s a no-no, nigga nah, nah

I know they love my fly

The way I rock Dolce and Gabanna

I lost my niggas to the streets when it coulda been me

It’s fucked up, they either dead or doin' fed time

Boy, you all about your bread, so am I

If it’s money on your mind, .45 to your hairline

And I keep it by the dresser

That’s for any bitch who ever try to break my heart, I won’t let ya

Still got blood on my denims

That was all the blood that was in him, no more love in a nigga

No more love in a nigga

But I swear her company made me so comfortable

I don’t fuck with her (Yeah)

The way she fuck with me

And it’s probably 'cause I’m from the X, where they take for respect

Thought I woulda been into the grave on my def

Same fit for a week, now I hate Nike tech

Now I’m a trendsetter from my sweater to my hat

Biggs put me on the big ass purple Puma jet

I’m flexin' more than ever, she like, «Money make me wet»

And if I die, I’ma die for my respect

Bury me with like a milli' on my neck, ah

She was lookin' O.D.

from a side eye

Said she ain’t an eater, but she lie all the time-time

I woke up to three bitches in my bed

Made me say it three times, like, «You fine, oh you fine-fine»

I ain’t rockin' with no ho niggas or a bozo

That’s a no-no, nigga nah, nah

I know they love my fly

The way I rock Dolce and Gabanna

I lost my niggas to the streets when it coulda been me

It’s fucked up, they either dead or doin' fed time

Boy, you all about your bread, so am I

If it’s money on your mind, .45 to your hairline

And I keep it by the dresser

Just in case a bitch ever try to break my heart, I won’t let ya

I still got blood on my denims

That was the blood that was in him, no more love in a nigga

Run through it, all the bands that a nigga got

I wonder if the streets still care about me

Long story, I can never really talk about it

I’m numb to it, I stand still when I hear shots

Numb to it, I stand still when I hear shots

I hear niggas talkin' 'bout the money that they don’t got

I used to be up on the corner with my young akh

Now I go buy a couple pounds of the fronto

I still smoke it by the pound, I get dumb high

I still smoke it by the pound like a rasta

I send money to my niggas sittin' up, yeah

I send money to my daughter, she’s a rugrat

I been through it but I’m not givin' up, yeah

I switch up on different cars, now they upset