Tom MacDonald - 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 suit's
Chillin' with thе old money
Tryna make a move
Shе wonder why her parents and
Her friends don't approve
But she livin' 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 chillin' all day
Smokin' blunts at the salon
In her leopard print stilettos
With a grape cigarillo
And a rumor that she heard
And the bitches that she tellin'
Dark skin, blonde hair big booty, fake nails
She actin' 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
Fuckin' 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 cryin' 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