Designer Songtext
von Lil Herb

This Gucci, this Louis, this Fendi, this Robins, Givenchy′ and truey fits
That Prada, Versace, and Armani, what am I gonna do with this
I'm counting these fifties, these twenties add up till I count me a million
All these hundreds, these fifties, these twenties add up till I count me a million
Ferragamo or Gucci, they all designer, I don′t know the difference
Forget what I spent on it'
I'm form Chirac but my belt is from italy
I′m counting these fifties, these twenties till I count me a million

All these hundreds, these fifties, these twenties till I count me a million

All these hundreds that′s on me ain't close to that much but it felt like a million
Run around through Chiraq and a bitch with me black but her hair is Brazilian
Smoking louds′sipping act better watch how you act 'cause the mac will go BRATT and they can′t bring you back
Now it's after the fact, put the mac in the trunk while we smoke and relax
While I thumb through these racks, man, I just spent a stack on a belt and a hat
Never thought I see the day I go from state to state and I fuck all these hoes on the way
Never thought I′d be that nigga, every time I step I got all these hoes in my face


But fuck all these bitches
All I know is get' these digits and flex and stay real with my niggas
Kill for my niggas
Max Ben getting money but believe his finger still on the trigger
Got to get this money cuz the ain't dead yet
But they always gon be bucking but me
And that ain′t nothing funny
That′s why I keep this Tec cuz niggas ain't never gon get nothing from me

This Gucci, this Louis, this Fendi, this Robins, Givenchy′
That Prada, Versace, 'and Armani, what am I gonna do with this
I′m counting these fifties, these twenties till I count me a million
All these hundreds, these fifties, these twenties till I count me a million
Ferragamo or Gucci, they all designer, I don't know the difference

Forget what I spent on it′
I'm counting these fifties, these twenties till I count me a million
All these hundreds, these fifties, these twenties till I count me a million


Shooter shout out the thirty, shot out the semi, I can't tell the difference
′Cause my shorties, they′ itching to pull on they block and empty dem 100 and clips in them
I be all all up the way in the states
So these local Lil niggas don't take much to get to them
I be all in my city and Louis and Fendi, just giving them all of my benjamins
These niggas pretending, they really ain′t getting no money
They really ain't wit the shits
I be up on the block that′s named after ROC
Where Lil mally tote 50 and 60 clips
Free my big broski JOC when he touched on the block it's a party
So line up a bitch for him
These niggas is bitches
They snakes and they fakes and they leeches
So I don′t got shit for them
They come up in the streets
But grew up to be Jake's and preechera that give niggas sentences
So I be smoking refer chillin sipping counting digits missing all of my niggas
While these 100s these 50s these 20s add up till I count me a milli
This Gucci, this Louis, this Fendi, this Robins, Givenchy'
That Prada, Versace, ′and Armani, what am I gonna do with this
I′m counting these fifties, these twenties till I count me a million
All these hundreds, these fifties, these twenties till I count me a million
Ferragamo or Gucci, they all designer, I don't know the difference
Forget what I spent on it′
I'm counting these fifties, these twenties till I count me a million
All these hundreds, these fifties, these twenties till I count me a million