Marcus from Mars - Stylist Lyrics

Designer my pants designer my buckle I'm in my bag I'm in my Duffle
I'm out raisin hell I feel like the devil gettin the cash I'll b damned if I struggle
I ball ona peon like my name was Russell I'm talkin bout Westbrook Paint on her face
Likka sketch book Might cop me a rari or Tesla I gotta bad b*tch witta Glock
She gonn blow if you test her I got the drip so I don't need a stylist gotta white b*tch
Look like Miley Cyrus Ima hot nigga hell raiser Ima die lit
Me and my niggas gonn eat give a f*ck about a diet All gas no brake
Ima get it and go I'm ice, snow flake? My wrist on froze
I'm Outta state on some rare foreign hoes Texas my native my mouth full of gold
Im out in L.A I'm coolin on melrose Yo nigga so lame ima fold em like elbows
I'm not in New York but I'm ballin like melo A Yung nigga wavy
I'm wavin like hello I got the drip, the sauce, saracha She text me pull up
I tell her I gotcha She bad to the bone i think I needa doctor I'm keepin it coo my ni