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lirik lagu so perfect – paris michael

[intro]
b*tch what’s my name hoe?
please stay in your lane hoe
never f*cking wit lame hoes
just wifed your main hoe
all raf, don’t change hoe
southside my lingo
broke n*ggas stay taking shots
at least try and have aim bro
black leather celine, just got sent from hedi slimane, b*tch
can’t match my range, b*tch i’m barely rapping in english
yes b*tch im vain, have you seen the face i came with?
“d*mn p you changed” man f*ck out my face with that lame sh*t

[verse 1]
yeah yeah, b*tch hold my d*ck
rockstar p, hold my sh*t
tell wilhemina send the whole roster, not one imposter gets in this whip
she too fine, i won’t forget it
so wet, my necklace jealous
f*ck hoes, got a fiscal fetish
ric flair, too reckless and it’s perfect

[chorus]
why you spend 600 on them pants? (cus’ it’s perfect)
how you fit them diamonds on your hands? (cus it’s perfect)
would you put yo mama in that benz? (if it’s perfect)
d*mn bruh, young n*gga got his bands up (and it’s perfect)
and do we got a motherf*cking problem?
i just got all my friends, off the ends, we can solve em (if it’s perfect)
won’t you cop your girl that brand new lamb?
(if she perfect, man all this sh*t is worth it, i d*mn near did it perfect)

[verse 2]
bad motherf*cker, keep it chris tucked in, chain flooded and it’s moonwalking
she just wanna party, prada on her body, hundreds on her like a blue coffin
body looking like a bad reason
and she love me better when it’s tax season
she been tryna holla for the past weekend
“baby i can’t love you in no last season”
or no last weekend
anna wintour every sag season
blizzard collar man we past freezing
tuck my napkin in the raf pocket
make the bag even
put matte pb on the ext
tattoo top by jpg
10 bad girls in the img until i’m g.o.d and b*tch it’s perfect

[outro]
give a f*ck about a last name
martines for the back pain
all cuban, no jesus piece
put me on my last chain
old girl say she got a man
your girl say she only dance
my girl is an actress, i’ma costar in her onlyfans
i got neutrogena on my leather jacket and the belt alone is bout a couple bands
y’all n*ggas couldn’t cross me if i nailed myself through my f*cking hand
saved y’all from the sinning man
and the “p” for prada on the linen pants
and she sms if she make a mess saying “don’t respond” cus she with her man
adele adkins of the game
i set fire back to the rain
cut my wrist when i was in the cold
now my wrist healed and it’s froze
we don’t never flake never fold
she paint “fourteen” on her toes
and when you biting n*ggas drop a single noun that’s another paris song sold, n*gga
cus it’s south south southside
all you n*ggas out out outside
i done seen broke n*ggas doubt mine
i done seen rich n*ggas go blind
i done put holy water in my tom ford just to turn it back into wine
i done seen weak n*ggas tryna beef with us just to get sounds like mine
i done turned f*ck sh*t into heat
i done put all rick on my feet
i done turned “just friends” into “best friends” into wedding vows in a week
(b*tch!)
and it’s paris motherf*cking michael let me know if one thing not clear
i done made the best song of the decade in the firth month of the year n*gga
fourteen!

- paris michael

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