"Accoutrements" lyrics
Action Bronson & The Alchemist Lyrics
Boy
Need some paper? A pencil?
Shuck the oysters
Get the little mignette
Get the mignonette
Fil-ee, filet mignon
Ain't that a bitch? Uh, fuck, yo
Tilt the goblet, steerin' in the middle of the cockpit
Spanish bitch displayed up with some ostrich
Quinceañera freak dancin'
Grand Hills laced up with the X, Helly Hansen
Foggy night, hustle 'til the sun up, stumble in synonymous
Fuck around, found your leg by the Gowanus bridge
Over do it, send your penis to your mama crib
That's what happens when you open your vagina lips
Only focused on the mergers and acquisitions
Commas on the counts, robbin' 'em like Yount
Well you don't want no problems, I got the opera lungs
Andrea Bocelli hit the telly, lift my belly
Carve up the boneless stakers
Baby, there's no mistakin'
My life is extra credit, sophisticated palate
Sweet, sour, salty, spicy, and umami
We eatin' oysters off of diamonds in Hawaii
With three— that play ball for the Liberty
Finish my second joint, I'm lightin' up the trilogy
Like E. Honda when he fuckin' up the Lexus
Luger arms, baby it's all about accoutrements, yeah
Money, chap, I lost my everything
Got nothing left so I pity
I am, everybody's nobody all night long
Holy shit
You guys did a beautiful job
May I ask if we could have another number?
It seems like something that should be played
You guys good?
5-4-3
Need some paper? A pencil?
Shuck the oysters
Get the little mignette
Get the mignonette
Fil-ee, filet mignon
Ain't that a bitch? Uh, fuck, yo
Tilt the goblet, steerin' in the middle of the cockpit
Spanish bitch displayed up with some ostrich
Quinceañera freak dancin'
Grand Hills laced up with the X, Helly Hansen
Foggy night, hustle 'til the sun up, stumble in synonymous
Fuck around, found your leg by the Gowanus bridge
Over do it, send your penis to your mama crib
That's what happens when you open your vagina lips
Only focused on the mergers and acquisitions
Commas on the counts, robbin' 'em like Yount
Well you don't want no problems, I got the opera lungs
Andrea Bocelli hit the telly, lift my belly
Carve up the boneless stakers
Baby, there's no mistakin'
My life is extra credit, sophisticated palate
Sweet, sour, salty, spicy, and umami
We eatin' oysters off of diamonds in Hawaii
With three— that play ball for the Liberty
Finish my second joint, I'm lightin' up the trilogy
Like E. Honda when he fuckin' up the Lexus
Luger arms, baby it's all about accoutrements, yeah
Money, chap, I lost my everything
Got nothing left so I pity
I am, everybody's nobody all night long
Holy shit
You guys did a beautiful job
May I ask if we could have another number?
It seems like something that should be played
You guys good?
5-4-3
Writer(s): Ariyan Arslani, Alan Maman
