De La Soul - Shopping Bags (She Got From You) lyrics
De La Soul [Posdnous, Trugoy the Dove, Maseo] Amityville, New York, U.S. 🇺🇸
[De La Soul - Shopping Bags She Got From You lyrics]
(We not goin' to JC Penney's
We not goin' to Macy's either)
Shopping bags, they weigh down her arms
Popping tags and collars her charm
All them things she got, she got from you
All them things she got, she got from you
Manolo and Prada's her style
Louis, Burberry by the pile
All them things she got, she got from you
All them things she got, she got from you
Yo, she know you come to do it
So what'cha want
Candlelight right back atcha
Put your credit card through it
She know what to flaunt
I handle tight like her master
She's the talk on the runway
Yeah she's down the tree
The avenue like her catwalk
Struck a bit to the gunplay
That housing street looks to die for
Ask that chalk man for yo' hand
Spend it, you live to show
All the cash that you can burn
What you need is to end it
'cause you give the dough
But get no ass back in return (Ha, haha, ha)
Stay laughin', straight at you dawg
Best believe you wastin' time
Don't deny what's happenin'
Just clear the fog
And achieve you a peace line, yo it goes like
Shopping bags, they weigh down her arm
Popping tags and collars her charm
All them things she got, she got from you
All them things she got, she got from you
She got from you, she, sh-she, she got it
She got from you, she, sh-sh, sh-she got it
Her frame goes beyond thick
She got you stunned
Living it up off the pop hit's
Like a dame on a Bond flick
She's not the one
To give it up 'til you cop shit
Just because she's stacked right
She got your soul
Her every wish you now obey
You should be on that act-right
But she got control she say "Jump"
You scream "Okay! I'm reloaded!"
Nigga, you shootin' blanks
Tryin' to front like you got game
Her crib is sugar coated
Like she lootin' banks
But it's your wallet she done claimed
When the limit of your
Plastic reaches the end
You start payin' for your time
She'll be in it for the last
Bit of money to spend
(Ha, haha, ha) And you'll be left with dimes
While she fillin' up
Shopping bags, they weigh down her arms
Popping tags and collars her charm
All them things she got, she got from you
All them things she got, she got from you
Manolo and Prada's her style
Louis, Burberry by the pile
All them things she got, she got from you
All them things she got, she got from you
She got from you, she, sh-she, she got it
She got from you, she, sh-sh, sh-she got it
Ad libs and chickenheads to fade
We not goin' to Macy's either)
Shopping bags, they weigh down her arms
Popping tags and collars her charm
All them things she got, she got from you
All them things she got, she got from you
Manolo and Prada's her style
Louis, Burberry by the pile
All them things she got, she got from you
All them things she got, she got from you
Yo, she know you come to do it
So what'cha want
Candlelight right back atcha
Put your credit card through it
She know what to flaunt
I handle tight like her master
She's the talk on the runway
Yeah she's down the tree
The avenue like her catwalk
Struck a bit to the gunplay
That housing street looks to die for
Ask that chalk man for yo' hand
Spend it, you live to show
All the cash that you can burn
What you need is to end it
'cause you give the dough
But get no ass back in return (Ha, haha, ha)
Stay laughin', straight at you dawg
Best believe you wastin' time
Don't deny what's happenin'
Just clear the fog
And achieve you a peace line, yo it goes like
Shopping bags, they weigh down her arm
Popping tags and collars her charm
All them things she got, she got from you
All them things she got, she got from you
She got from you, she, sh-she, she got it
She got from you, she, sh-sh, sh-she got it
Her frame goes beyond thick
She got you stunned
Living it up off the pop hit's
Like a dame on a Bond flick
She's not the one
To give it up 'til you cop shit
Just because she's stacked right
She got your soul
Her every wish you now obey
You should be on that act-right
But she got control she say "Jump"
You scream "Okay! I'm reloaded!"
Nigga, you shootin' blanks
Tryin' to front like you got game
Her crib is sugar coated
Like she lootin' banks
But it's your wallet she done claimed
When the limit of your
Plastic reaches the end
You start payin' for your time
She'll be in it for the last
Bit of money to spend
(Ha, haha, ha) And you'll be left with dimes
While she fillin' up
Shopping bags, they weigh down her arms
Popping tags and collars her charm
All them things she got, she got from you
All them things she got, she got from you
Manolo and Prada's her style
Louis, Burberry by the pile
All them things she got, she got from you
All them things she got, she got from you
She got from you, she, sh-she, she got it
She got from you, she, sh-sh, sh-she got it
Ad libs and chickenheads to fade