A$AP Rocky - MONEY BAGS FREESTYLE (DEAN BLUNT MEDITATION) lyrics

Is this guy serious?
Is this guy serious, or what?

Twenty bands, twenty bands, twenty bands
Twenty bands, twenty bands, twenty bands
Twenty bands, twenty bands, twenty bands
Twenty bands, twenty bands, twenty bands
Let it out, let it out, let it out

I foresee the jealousy all in
Your eyes for sure
Sure, they don't want to beef with
My physique or my 44
Sure, life is sweet, I'm by the beach
Sand all on the feet
By the seat, the time we meet
We'll leave em' by the shore
Sure, pop a bean em' right to
Sleep sheets of my decor
With privacy, she grind on me
And sweep on my rapport, whore
Drama by the front door
Pushing out the back door
Trapping out the bando
Leave em' by the trap door
Money bags, money bags
Ten bands, ten bands, ten bands (ten bands)
Drop the babies in the car seat
Must be the Courvoisier
Tap on your bustier, valeting Cartier
Car keys to the Murcielago and Courtier
Wake up thankful everyday
Feel like Sydney Portier
Ayy ayy, soundbite, soundbite, woo
Cheat code, cheat code, L1, down, right
Damn right, damn right
The nigga who your sound like, sound like
Demons fucking up my focus
Head vultures, precious death, death rows
Pockets full of dead folks
Prada soles full of dead roaches
And some cud I stepped on
Waiting for her to get left
On the same place, dead bodies get left on
But woke niggas get slept on
Broke niggas get flexed on
I really wish she had less on
I might fuck her with a dress on
Scratching on me with her press-ons
We ain't stopping til' the next song
Next song, next song, next song
Ten bands, ten bands money bags, money bags
Money bags, money bags ten bands, ten bands
Ten bands, ten bands
Ricky Owens on me look like Dom Pér
St laurents on me, I don't wear Vans