Blue Richie Bux (Ft. Valee)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Blue" by Richie Bux (Ft. Valee). Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Intro]
(Perfect 10)
[Chorus: Valee]
We be countin' up all hundreds, and they gotta be blue (Gotta be new)
I stay with a bad bitch, yeah, that gotta be true (Gotta be true)
I must've hopped out in Off-White
I got twenty grand gone on my off-night, on my off-night
Run up, it's gon' look like an off light (Yeah, run up, it's gon' look like an off light)
[Verse 1: Valee]
Shit gettin' dim, four iPhones, ain't no SIMs
Eighty-five hundred on rims, my spot look like the Sims, yeah (Like the Sims)
Gucci gram costs lots of loot
I get mouth while I got your boo
I blow exotic out the roof
Louis pants, they match the coupe
You the type to go in store, ask what's the best they could do, that's what I don't do
All this shit no favor, ain't no IOU
And I keep a stick, it won't be me, it's gon' be Y-O-U
You mad 'cause the David Yurman on my bitch, not on you
All that exotic a flower force, I'm at Fontainebleau, bitch new
Boy, that lean was fake, all he heard was, "I'm good"
Better not get to close to me in traffic, I pop your hood
Bitch gon' get too wet for me, a napkin won't do no good
I'm not worried 'bout nothin' ain't gon' happen when in your hood
Four-door sedan sittin' in sand, need to be washed by hand
Bitch want bags look better than Birkins, gotta be made by hand, yeah
(Perfect 10)
[Chorus: Valee]
We be countin' up all hundreds, and they gotta be blue (Gotta be new)
I stay with a bad bitch, yeah, that gotta be true (Gotta be true)
I must've hopped out in Off-White
I got twenty grand gone on my off-night, on my off-night
Run up, it's gon' look like an off light (Yeah, run up, it's gon' look like an off light)
[Verse 1: Valee]
Shit gettin' dim, four iPhones, ain't no SIMs
Eighty-five hundred on rims, my spot look like the Sims, yeah (Like the Sims)
Gucci gram costs lots of loot
I get mouth while I got your boo
I blow exotic out the roof
Louis pants, they match the coupe
You the type to go in store, ask what's the best they could do, that's what I don't do
All this shit no favor, ain't no IOU
And I keep a stick, it won't be me, it's gon' be Y-O-U
You mad 'cause the David Yurman on my bitch, not on you
All that exotic a flower force, I'm at Fontainebleau, bitch new
Boy, that lean was fake, all he heard was, "I'm good"
Better not get to close to me in traffic, I pop your hood
Bitch gon' get too wet for me, a napkin won't do no good
I'm not worried 'bout nothin' ain't gon' happen when in your hood
Four-door sedan sittin' in sand, need to be washed by hand
Bitch want bags look better than Birkins, gotta be made by hand, yeah
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