Dust Belly (Ft. French Montana)

[Intro: French Montana]
Belly
You know what it is

[Verse 1: French Montana]
Four wheeler, jet skis, Puerto Rican waters
Cash for foreigns, call me Aston Martin Lawrence
Florence the Machine, hunnid round machine of Florence
In the hood robbin', Robin Hood feed the homeless
Don't seek in them seekin' homies, Jay, Wes, and Otis
Rip top on my wrist and Lotus
Hurricane Chris left hook, Westbrook
Diamond chains have you lookin' like Sticky Fingaz
I be RZA with the technique, my V 103 like Greg Street
That's straight cash, me and Belly with a hundred Arabs
40 sound like a plane crash

[Chorus: Belly]
I can't get away, money keep on fallin' (Fallin')
Every time I try to leave it alone, I swear it keep on callin' (Callin')
I can't get away, keep on falling (Fallin')
Every time I try to leave it alone, I swear it keep on calling (Callin')

[Verse 2: Belly]
I've been realer, my pen iller (Ayy)
You softer than Ben Stiller in a chinchilla (Yeah)
Sim Simma, Sim Simma
Who got the keys to my Bimmer, the Alpina? (Ayy)
Fuck the clout we define the culture
So they keep us in the vault just to sign the vultures (Yeah)
Designer holsters, Ferragamo loafers
Over time, still ballin', thought my time was over (Look)
Look, up north, I'm the soya and the duck sauce (Woo)
Tryna shake the paranoia from the drugs off (Yeah)
No love lost, but you know that kinda love costs
You made me go and get my heart and knock the dust off
Dust, dust off, dust, dust off
Shoulders, dust off, shake the motherfuckin' dust off