Jarren Benton – Designer Belts Lyrics


Yeah, yeah have a nigga tell a friendd, bitch. Money over bitches while the world still spinning

Vers 1
Yeah, forever terminating trash. Middle fingers to the peers, this is therminating blacks, fuck ’em. Lord Benton i’m moving expensive lettuce. Fuck my slave name, i’m switching it to a [?] I never trust the system investin in private prisons. as long as i’m breathing i’m probably the live that’s livin’. Name a nigga’ iller than me, i’ll wait. They ain’t fucking with the god [?] fuck these labels i bet i leave with my masters. Black lives never matter as long as i’m eating rappers. Rest in pissed, i never honour you chumps. These nigga’s swagger jagger, i trust my money in trunks. Click, click,blaow Put you niggas in a permenant slump, never smell no wierd odors when i’m burning a blunt. Yeah, they be like “Mr.Benton you quite odd.” Atheist, i never pray for no white god. No disrespect for my white folks, but they be like “We want that old Jarren, The psycho.” Since my nigga died i ain’t been the same. Fuck the schitzo, pussy nigga, come feel this pain. I got family in Flint, Michigan. These motherfuckers poison the water to get rid of them. A couple bucks will make your life switch. I don’t trust the government, my wife know my sidebitch. Yeah, a nigga crying for help. A taste for suicide i hang with designer belts. Yeah, god bless america, if it ain’t your own then the pigs gon’ come and bury ya niggas

Verse 2
*Right hand over my strap. my country sits on bigger things. sweet land of living*
Complain about bullshit while niggas do fed’ time. Some niggas that got clipped got nothing but bed time. You voted for Donald Trump, your vote was a hatecrime. The world looking Strange, dawg, i ride with a Tech Nine. I’m coming with the facts involved, taxin’ y’all, so call me when the straps involved. Talkin trash, pat the party with the action, dawg. Fo’ fo’ ways kids like they jackin’ off. Swear a nigga wanted to flip, i was nice with basketball still a wanted a prick. Got the brand new fives, still i want me a six. Like a nigga got a wife and still i want me yo bitch. Sold crack on the corner and back to back with them foreigners. I put my mind to it and got it right off the tour. Still they pull me over like, “What the fuck is you doing?”[?] What drug is you movin’. Dang man, i want these niggas dead. Put his arms to his head, he be Mr.Potato head. A nigga been feared, but never fuck with the feds. We killin’ everything, i hope you niggas prepared. On a lighter note, Niggas still coming with the fire, though. Burnin’ up the trees getting higher than Mariah Notes. Mink coat killa’ with the drug deala’. Sum it all up, fuck a fuck nigga


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