Das Racist - Pink Polo Shorts lyrics

[Verse 1: Spiderfang] Black-cloaked jeans, cross-color shirt Jansport knapsack, that is where I keep the work And by work, I mean weed I'm a mac, but I rock A.P.C No Microsoft, no Hodgman Spiderfang fly to the point it's a problem The ?-colored blues, b, I got 'em The Moltaracci shoes, b, I got 'em Hot roddin', geo-Prism ridin' Verrazano Bridge ten bucks and I glide in So clean like I put extra Tide in Thorough on the block, cause the kid extra tied-in On the low from the Jake in the Taurus Quati boots, like I'm in the motherf**ing forest But I'm not hunting a duck, man I'm out here grinding, hunting a buck My mom used to dress me in Conway Now I rock the pink Polo shorts, no Kanye All day not giving a f** Seinfeld style, not giving a f** [Hook] Nautica shorts, Hilfiger shorts Pink Polo shorts, pink pink Polo shorts Vacso shorts, Karl Kani shorts Pink Polo shorts, pink pink Polo shorts South Pole shorts, Champion shorts Pink Polo shorts, pink pink Polo shorts Coogi shorts, Russell Athletic shorts Pink Polo shorts, pink pink Polo shorts [Verse 2: Heems] Yeah, fuzzy red fleeces, Bloomy's, Macy's Hilfiger, Polo, Nautica, crazy And I'm in your girl's tushie Got like eight orange Nautica swooshies Hanging on the Jansport knapsack Ain't nothing, just backpack trap rap At the crib stay burning Sweaters by S.N.S. Herning N.Y. natives, we get that cash High-tops made by Chris van Ash Make them dollars, fugiwara In the Honda with a bougie mama Who he? Ha ha, he got dollars Common projects line his closet My mom used to dress me in Conway Or booger-green sweaters straight from Bombay [Hook] [Verse 3: KOOL A.D.] Do you love it? I love it, I got it at Ross, man Bay-top, my mom's sauce is hot sauce, man Plus I got more sauce than a sauce pan I'm a saucy-a, man, something like a boss, man Knuckleheads catch it cocotazo way sh** trash heaps in my sleep, this a toss-away Stay stacking pies even if they take the sauce away From every single spot up in the Bay to far rock away Playing soccer is stupid, I kick some other necks Pull your wifey and your sister and your mother next The brother fresh, plus the kid is dressed In whatever I found up on the floor that doesn't smell like s** I rock a women's sweater, I give a f**, whatever Call me Kid Cudi how I get the kiddie cut wetter Cross-color clash, man, Jimmie jazz jam band All tan everything, everything tan, man [Hook]