Mr. Put That Shit On

These boys ain't fresh like me, boy
You niggas need a stylist

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 Vs and Botte', I put it on, yeah
Richard Mille, bonbon, Rick Owens, yeah
I be stylin' on niggas, I put it on, yeah (Yeah, huh)

Cyber to Ferragamo
The Restoration Hardware inside the (?) condo
It cost a G for this plaided Burberry poncho
Amiri, Yves Saint Laurent coat, side note
Must be on heroin thinkin' they don't fear the God flow
Virgil Abloh, I'm rockin' on Aeropostale
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 bought 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 ol' goofy buckle
She chuckle when people say that we just the cutest couple
And I could tell by your purse game that 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 your Balenciaga mean
Bitch, I was clean when

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 Vs and Botte', 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 (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
When they got a BBL, now she all in B-V-L-gari
I Bathing Ape before I fell in the party
Louis V and Marni, brand new Arnold Bernard piece
The era metal, ghetto Zegna
Shawty, you got Alexander, but he never Vera Wang'd ya (Nah, never Vera Wang'd ya)
So the next time the Met Ball is where the Mets ball
Or the Nets all, I'll address y'all in a dresser from the best clos'
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

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 Vs and Botte', I put it on, yeah
Richard Mille, bonbon, Rick Owens, yeah
I be stylin' on niggas, I put it on, yeah

We say, "Drapin'" and "Drip"
We don't say that shit no more
Man, we say, "Shawty got that shit on," like
I got that shit on
Yeah, shawty gon' Gucci to the floor
Yeah, shawty gon' Louis
Yeah, shawty gon' get, yeah, you puttin' that shit on

Yeah, the Maison Margiela of the mall clearer
I'll check her, take your Vaughan leather just to offset her
God bless her, fall fetch her, extra small sweater
I'ma Comme des Garcons, only they could keep my heart tethered
My pallbearers, all my steppers, ex-cartelers
Leave niggas laid across stretchers for a small gesture
Who squad pressure? Old heads say I'm a sharp dresser
I'm so for real, I can't even sing in falsetto
The Dolce & Gabbana, Marcelo Burlon
Just left Sierra Leone for my future baby momma
Somebody go tell Uncle Ben that I ain't your momma
I'ma Yves Saint Laurent her, Balmain persona
Lanvin made the jeans, shawty, these ain't McQueen
You was in the streets, what? But this ain't Supreme
'Cause the way they paint the scene, shawty, this Moschin'
Haters hate to see me clean in this wave, Celine
Haters hate to see me clean in this wave, Celine
Haters hate to see me clean in this wave, Celine
Haters hate to see me clean (I put it on)