Coi Leray - Box & Papers Lyrics

I don't even wanna think about it
Why everybody think money solve they problems?
No, you cannot buy loyalty
What's forgiven is never forgotten

Yeah, call my jeweler
Need that plain jane, box and papers, uh (yeah)
Baby, these not SI's, brand new foreign for a test drive
The jet ain't got no Wi-Fi, 50k just on vacation (ayy, yeah)
Why they hatin'? Got these bitches sick
Askin' they self, why I made it
I'm most hated, but your nigga's favorite
I can't deal with the labels, but I fuck with the bank
Walk in, need two-fifty in cash just to put on my chain (yeah)
What the fuck did you think?
All this he say, rah-rah shit, took me right to the safe
And I fill up my drink
'42 mixed with the pineapple 'cause I like how that shit taste

Ooh, they say I'm sexy, uh
I'm throwin' these hundreds, this shit get messy (yeah)
I could never trust a bitch (yeah)
Doin' donuts in the whip, this ain't no Tesla
Yeah, walk in, bless 'em with my presence, uh
Baby, Merry Christmas (yeah, uh)
Pockets so full when I limp, I need crutches (yeah)
This Backwood bussin', bitch, these Russians, uh, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
They be like, "How you do that there?"
They ask me baby, "How you so viral? I see you everywhere"
Yeah, love it how you wear your braids, they copy all your hair
When I popped out, bitch you wasn't even there, uh, yeah
"How you deal with the hate?" I don't give a fuck, I don't care
Yeah, bitch, pass me the bottle, pull up in new auto
I'm sittin' real pretty, I'm sippin' Moscato
I call up the vado, tell him we need that two for six
And we'll see him tomorrow (yeah)
I hopped off a jet and I land in Chicago
These bitches be jackin' my swag like my nigga Harlow
They wanna book me for a show and I tell them call Cairo
Yeah, bitch I'm doing well, I get money like Fargo

Yeah, call my jeweler
Need that plain jane, box and papers, uh (yeah)
Baby, these not SI's, brand new foreign for a test drive
The jet ain't got no Wi-Fi, 50k just on vacation (ayy, yeah)
Why they hatin'? Got these bitches sick
Askin' they self, why I made it
I'm most hated, but your nigga's favorite
I can't deal with the labels, but I fuck with the bank
Walk in, need two-fifty in cash just to put on my chain (yeah)
What the fuck did you think?
All this he say, rah-rah shit, took me right to the safe
And I fill up my drink
'42 mixed with the pineapple 'cause I like how that shit taste