"She So" lyrics
Gucci all on her wrist
No church for her, Christian Dior
She sold her soul for designer shit
And she still spend all day inside the store
Louis all on her purse
No church for her, she pray for fame
She sold her soul for some fancy shit
And some limo rides, and some cheap champagne
She so, she so, she so, she so tired
Bags under both her eyes, but both of them designer
She go, she go, she go, she go too hard
She just tryna work, work, work
But it hurt, hurt, hurts
Uh, she at a party full of suits
Chilling with the old money, tryna make a move
She wonder why her parents and her friends don't approve
But she living in the moment and she has nothing to prove to them
Couple stacks on a week night, movie and some weed night
Move a little shit in her free time
Couple stacks on a week night, they ain't even good, that's a weak night
Couple friends on her phone like "where you at?"
She don't even know, she don't holler back
She tryna make some money and escape
But they tell her watch her language, she just tryna watch her weight, ah
Couple guys on her phone like "where you been?"
She gave 'em what they want, and never saw 'em since
She tryna make it feel alright, so she shops all day and she cries all night
She don't even know what she wants
She chilling all day, smoking blunts at the salon
In her leopard print stilettos with a grape cigarillo
And a rumor that she heard, and the bitches that she telling
Dark skin, blonde hair
Big booty, fake nails
She acting like it's really what she wanted
But all she really wanted was to really feel wanted, ah
Gucci all on her wrist
No church for her, Christian Dior
She sold her soul for designer shit
And she still spend all day inside the store
Louis all on her purse
No church for her, she pray for fame
She sold her soul for some fancy shit
And some limo rides, and some cheap champagne
She so, she so, she so, she so tired
Bags under both her eyes, but both of them designer
She go, she go, she go, she go too hard
She just tryna work, work, work
But it hurt, hurt, hurts
New Fendi heels, got the whole collection
She just follow trends, she don't take directions
She tryna match her nails with her belt
She ain't proud of her outfit, she proud of herself
She got the jewels all glued on her iPhone
Brand new lingerie, fucking with the lights on
They wrote it off cause they never tried to write home
She don't even feel like she came from the right home
Couple girls got her back and they hold it down
They link up every night and they roll around
They all tryna get out the city cause they know if they don't all they'll ever be is pretty
Couple men who really treat her like they should
Couple women that tell her what's really good
She just tryna own this game
And get out of this lonely place
She just tryna do it like she wanna
Smoke a couple joints and not end up like her mama
Got a stack in her pillow case
Racks in a hidden place
Racks on racks at a cribbo in a different place
She crying cause there's diamonds in her eyes
And they're not clear enough to see anything but the price
She about that life, she about life, fuck, but she don't know why, uh
Gucci all on her wrist
No church for her, Christian Dior
She sold her soul for designer shit
And she still spend all day inside the store
Louis all on her purse
No church for her, she pray for fame
She sold her soul for some fancy shit
And some limo rides, and some cheap champagne
She so, she so, she so, she so tired
Bags under both her eyes, but both of them designer
She go, she go, she go, she go too hard
She just tryna work, work, work
But it hurt, hurt, hurts
No church for her, Christian Dior
She sold her soul for designer shit
And she still spend all day inside the store
Louis all on her purse
No church for her, she pray for fame
She sold her soul for some fancy shit
And some limo rides, and some cheap champagne
She so, she so, she so, she so tired
Bags under both her eyes, but both of them designer
She go, she go, she go, she go too hard
She just tryna work, work, work
But it hurt, hurt, hurts
Uh, she at a party full of suits
Chilling with the old money, tryna make a move
She wonder why her parents and her friends don't approve
But she living in the moment and she has nothing to prove to them
Couple stacks on a week night, movie and some weed night
Move a little shit in her free time
Couple stacks on a week night, they ain't even good, that's a weak night
Couple friends on her phone like "where you at?"
She don't even know, she don't holler back
She tryna make some money and escape
But they tell her watch her language, she just tryna watch her weight, ah
Couple guys on her phone like "where you been?"
She gave 'em what they want, and never saw 'em since
She tryna make it feel alright, so she shops all day and she cries all night
She don't even know what she wants
She chilling all day, smoking blunts at the salon
In her leopard print stilettos with a grape cigarillo
And a rumor that she heard, and the bitches that she telling
Dark skin, blonde hair
Big booty, fake nails
She acting like it's really what she wanted
But all she really wanted was to really feel wanted, ah
Gucci all on her wrist
No church for her, Christian Dior
She sold her soul for designer shit
And she still spend all day inside the store
Louis all on her purse
No church for her, she pray for fame
She sold her soul for some fancy shit
And some limo rides, and some cheap champagne
She so, she so, she so, she so tired
Bags under both her eyes, but both of them designer
She go, she go, she go, she go too hard
She just tryna work, work, work
But it hurt, hurt, hurts
New Fendi heels, got the whole collection
She just follow trends, she don't take directions
She tryna match her nails with her belt
She ain't proud of her outfit, she proud of herself
She got the jewels all glued on her iPhone
Brand new lingerie, fucking with the lights on
They wrote it off cause they never tried to write home
She don't even feel like she came from the right home
Couple girls got her back and they hold it down
They link up every night and they roll around
They all tryna get out the city cause they know if they don't all they'll ever be is pretty
Couple men who really treat her like they should
Couple women that tell her what's really good
She just tryna own this game
And get out of this lonely place
She just tryna do it like she wanna
Smoke a couple joints and not end up like her mama
Got a stack in her pillow case
Racks in a hidden place
Racks on racks at a cribbo in a different place
She crying cause there's diamonds in her eyes
And they're not clear enough to see anything but the price
She about that life, she about life, fuck, but she don't know why, uh
Gucci all on her wrist
No church for her, Christian Dior
She sold her soul for designer shit
And she still spend all day inside the store
Louis all on her purse
No church for her, she pray for fame
She sold her soul for some fancy shit
And some limo rides, and some cheap champagne
She so, she so, she so, she so tired
Bags under both her eyes, but both of them designer
She go, she go, she go, she go too hard
She just tryna work, work, work
But it hurt, hurt, hurts
