MOLLYWOOD Kill Dyll

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Fuck your Louis
Fuck your Gucci
You're a product to your Prada
Leave on the slopes inside the snow, you just get bought up
They tell you spend your cash on all those bags until you rot up
Drifting down the river, you're a sinner with a problem
Fuck your Louis
Fuck your Gucci
You're a product to your Prada
Leave on the slopes inside the snow you just get bought up
They tell you spend your cash on all those bags until you rot up
Drifting down the river you're a sinner with a problem

The party never ends
When you're sitting in a ’Benz
Sitting with these fake fuckers
You can't call your friends
They pretend
They don't really give a shit
They would rather see you in a mother fuckin ditch
Thats a snitch
Thats a hoe
No that's a bitch
You already know
Gotta get that dough
Gotta spend that bread
Make that money before you end up dead
Fake and the funny I don't need the friends
All of you phoney you know you depend
Count up your likes on your Instagram
I don't need rights, I just need a pen like
Fuck that shit
Fuck that shit