I keep that Coogi sweaters, hand knit,
Cuz that’s that fly shit.
I stay in laced because my body got Versace taste,
Rolex on my cuff, flooded wit diamonds and stuff.
A half a dozen hundred Benz, cool in my driveway,
try to have it my way, the fly way,
Led to a bad day.
I shoulda kept it real when i was wit you, instead i dissed you,
So now i miss you.