Renni Rucci – Elevators Lyrics

[Intro]
Damn Flaw, this what I been prayin’ for
Uh

[Verse 1]
Bad bitch alert, I’m a walking money bag (Cash)
Get a nigga for his bands, then I go and pop tags (Woo)
We some boss ass bitches, wrap our hair in Louis rags (Yeah)
Still wearin’ pack hair, bitch, that’s a gag (Say what?)
Let me tell you bitches what a boss do (Okay)
Never let a nigga double cross you (Uh-huh)
Always let ’em know you got the sauce too (What else?)
And if he cheatin’, f*ck his friend, that’s a boss move (Woo)
I’ma go to work on you soft ass hoes (Yeah)
That’s a ’15 Charger, bitch, the whole hood know
You ain’t foolin’ nobody playin’ rich bitch roles
Wearin’ old ass Gucci, ho, them last year’s clothes
Ho, we turnt in this bitch, you drinkin’ Belaire rose
We on Don in the VIP smellin’ just like boss
AP on my wrist, got a bad bitch froze
My IG doin’ numbers, watch a bad bitch pose
I drop down and give a nigga fifty when I’m twerkin’
Make a nigga jaw drop when he see me in person
Make a nigga drop bands, make accounts start hurtin’
Make him buy a Louis purse and I ain’t even start flirting
Missed church on Sunday, bought some Saint Laurent
New Gucci lookin’ crazy, they done changed the font
In a Ghost with my mama’s sister, that’s my aunt
Rolled by my ex like, “Hold up, let me stunt,” bumpin’ up on

[Chorus]
Elevators, elevators

Bad bitches, we like elevators, elevators
Every year we get another hater, ‘nother hater
‘Cause we goin’ up like elevators, elevators (You heard that?)
Elevators, elevators
Bad bitches, we like elevators, elevators
Every year we get another hater, ‘nother hater
‘Cause we goin’ up like elevators, elevators

[Verse 2]
I’m in love with Benjamin Franklin, I’m addicted to him
Tat him on my titty with love ’cause I’m stickin’ to him
He in my ride, pants cursin’ my mind, I’m so connected to him
He told me buy a brand new bag, I’m ’bout to listen to him
Ooh, take me shopping, buy me what I want
Take me out to Vegas, fly me where you want
Spend it on me at expensive restaurants
I like Ace of Spades, lobster tails, and butter on croissants
Don’t give a f*ck, ho, I know I got an attitude
We goin’ up, elevator on latitude
Instagram doin’ numbers, check my damn views
I see your track slippin’, bitch, you need some damn glue
Rich bitch, thick bitch, and I got hands on me
Hatin’ bitch in her feelings ’cause her man on me
All white everything like the Klan on me
Drumline in my purse ’cause I got the bands on me (That bag)
I got the bands on me (Cash)
That’s why your man on me (Give me that)
These Gucci, ain’t no Vans on me
Foolin’ out at Lenox, throwin’ money like a fan on me, bitch