Below, you will find the lyrics for Draped Up by Berner.
Pluto
That zootie, that cookie baking
Look at all of this money on me
Look at all of these twenties on me
Dirty cash
Three or four awards, thirty-four stores
Just seen another cover story on me by Forbes
In a Black Cadillac with the bulletproof doors
Lit the hotel room up, white ashes on their floors
Got a plain jane Rollie, I don't need a whole kit
Another billion off weed, I don't need a whole brick
Blue building in Toronto, I'ma flood the whole Six
Pull a brown bag out and gon' blow the whole shit
I got sick of moving cash, all my cars, and armed guards
Yeah, that's six million dollars, organized, all large
I tell that bitch to slow down, 'cause she fuckin' with my high
Left the show with five bitches, need a couple at a time
I make plays in Miami, I ain't never hear that prime
But I shut down Eleven, left the club around nine
I sent your bitch on a mission, made her sign for the box
Dropped a big face at Melrose, there's lines around the block
Looks like a Jordan drop, you see, you's a Jordan box
Till I outgrew the safe and put it in the Florida rock
Till I bought my old streets and started digging tunnels up
Back in 2013, I only touched a hundred plus
Back in 2015, I only had a hundred tucked
Just bought another truck, if you're good, you'll run it up
I bet my enemies is sick, pour another double cup
While you sleepin' on the couch, I'll run another hundred up
Yeah, dope money, weed money, coke money, blow money, dawg
Draped up in ice like I'm serving Fentanyl, nigga
Yeah, dope money, weed money, coke money, blow money, dawg
Draped up in ice like I'm serving Fentanyl, nigga
Yeah, dope money, weed money, coke money, blow money, dawg
Draped up in ice like I'm serving Fentanyl, nigga
I sold another truckload, got a whole hood on zooters
I recruited more shooters, just to go knock down your shooter, yeah
Rich nigga with a Blicky and I shoot it myself
Sip, sip-sippin', I get higher than spaceships
Bad bitch, bad bitch, swimming in it like Mike Phelps
Average? No, that ain't who I am
Bulletproof truck like Obama
I got a stick on me, Osama
Cookin' chicken, Benihana
Put a Richard Mille on my mama
Feed the streets and I be a stunna
Cop a coupe and it's white as Madonna
Straight out the trenches, I'm growing my numbers
Drankin' Texas, better check the persona
She gon' eat it up for a sponsor
Turnin' the drip up, got her goin'
Turnin' the drip up, got her flowin'
I put some eighty pointers on your arm
I put the Jerry Rice diamonds on
Ho, gon' fuck a rich nigga for nothin'
I don't pop out without my gun
I'm in Atlanta smokin' California
They gon' pop one time for it
If that's your bitch, that's my ho
I'm on some rich shit, that's for sure
One chain, cost a hundred or more
Take the gang members with me on tour
Take a Glock with me to the awards
Fuck the world like a prostitute
Real street nigga, I salute
Yeah, dope money, weed money, coke money, blow money, dawg
Draped up in ice like I'm serving Fentanyl, nigga
Yeah, dope money, weed money, coke money, blow money, dawg
Draped up in ice like I'm serving Fentanyl, nigga
Yeah, dope money, weed money, coke money, blow money, dawg
Draped up in ice like I'm serving Fentanyl, nigga
I sold another truckload, got a whole hood on zooters
I recruited more shooters, just to go knock down your shooter, yeah
Brown paper bag that ain't all a nigga had
Bought my main bitch a car 'cause my other main bitch made me mad
Got them demons, they tweakin' they ready to attack
Hit your top for a box, I could fuck over check
Brown paper bag that ain't all a nigga had
Bought my main bitch a car 'cause my other main bitch made me mad
Got them demons, they tweakin' they ready to attack
Hit your top for a box, I could fuck over check
I be in the trenches with dope, fool
I just put APs on my whole tool
Rather go to hell before I tell on bros, shawty
Lie to the judge on the low, on God