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    Sackcloth Fashion / Lyrics

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    "Rising Sons" Lyrics

    Sackcloth Fashion feat. Eroc

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    Duration:00:04:13
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    Lyrics

    [Verse 1: Trina]
    Icy blue rocks on my arm I shop at Malone for Louie Vinton
    The diamond diva miss Cinderella, Versace gown by Donna Tella
    And can't none of these hoes out floss me
    Gator boots by Sergio Rossi
    Ms. Trina I got to splurge, 58 frame baby watch the curves
    Walk in the club don't waste no time
    Hit the bar up two cases of wine
    Cute face thin waste line
    Drop to the beat pop to the base line
    To all my girls that's kickin it
    You got Chris in yo glass and you sippin it
    You bout money and you gettin it
    We tight that's right. Uh

    [Chorus]
    (Hey) This how we do!
    (Hooo) why'all can't deny
    (Hey) This how we do (whoa)
    I'm the baddest far from the average (Hey)
    Diamond Princess (whoa)
    Ghetto F-a-be (hey)
    This how we do (whoa)

    [Verse 2: Fabolous]
    I like my ladies off the glass like shotin off the back board
    Sexiest mommies beautiful as black broads
    Cutest rude girl, thick as Caucasian
    Pretty as conversions, slick as malatians
    Ask them let them bitches say yes sir
    Young and live among riches in West Jerve
    Switch in the excurve
    Strut through this bitch in the best furs
    Bitch in a Lex Jerse
    Twin gray crosses (bling) I'm the might cone
    Brightly chrome vendaidoes
    Cover your girl face
    From the Bruce Lee Roy glow
    On a mother a pearl face
    All I do is say one word
    why'all say it's foolish
    I send splurge
    I'm a lose 1/3
    I never go broke my name got to o's
    F-A-be -O-L-O-you-S

    [Chorus: x 2]

    [Verse 3: Trina]
    Nice lips, nice thighs, nice hips
    Pussy tighter then a pair of vice grips
    I don't pay niggas, niggas pay me
    (I'm a hustler baby) like Jay-Z
    It's the diamond princess million dollar mistress
    From the M-I home of the stop bitches
    Christal, and caviar bitches, twist this game for all you fly bitches
    I Spit nuttin but the hot shit, you got the four dot get the four dot six
    Maybe than you can ride with a hot bitch
    VS from the anklet to the wrist
    I been in the game just two years
    End a few careers there it is
    But now I'm back on top again
    With some red hot shit for you can cop again (Yeah)

    [Chorus: x 2]
    This song was submitted on November 28th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Roba Music, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Kelly Sheehan, Christopher Wallace, Hal Davis, Bob West, Willie Hutch, Berry Gordy Jr, Osten Harvey, Andrew Harr, Jermaine Jackson, Bonnie Leigh Mckee, Andre Davidson, Sean Davidson.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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