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"Crib In My Closet" lyrics by 2 CHAINZ
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[formerly known as TITY BOI]


"Crib In My Closet"
[feat. ASAP Rocky & Rick Ross]


[Verse 1: 2 Chainz]
Money machine at the bank, I just made me a deposit
Fucked that bitch right on the sink
Is it the pussy or is it the faucet?
I just left the hotel, never let ho in mi casa
All this designer shit it's like a crib in my closet
I got a crib in my closet, got a crib in my closet
Man, all this fuckin' gear it's like a crib in my closet
My Nike shoebox filled with rubber bands
That mean my Nike shoebox is my ATM
Fuck it, I said it, I'm winning, downsouth MC Ren
I might buy some Timbs, or peanut butter MCM
Raised down the street from a crack house
Pull her hair weave 'til the track out
Treat the rap game like a trap game
Tryna make a yellow ho tap out
I got Dolce, I ain't even worn yet, codeine ain't even po' yet
I could spend millions of dollars, and still won't even be poor yet
Yeah, I'm a motherfucking poet, riding now, motherfucker Ol'Nat
A nigga wearing a Versace shirt, man that's a motherfucking throwback

[Hook: 2 Chainz]
I got a crib in my closet, got a crib in my closet
All designer shit, I got a crib in my closet
I got a crib in my closet, got a crib in my closet
Man, all designer shit, I got a crib
All designer shit, all designer shit I got a crib
All designer shit, all designer shit I got a crib
All designer shit, all designer shit I got a crib in my closet
All designer shit, all designer shit, I got a crib in my closet, bitch

[Verse 2: A$AP Rocky]
Since rappin' turn to fashion I don't know what happen
Or mishappens
Matching turned to swagging, he exposed the world to trappin'
Picture poles and tactics
Ho, this that click click, finna' blow this backwards
Money, hoes and fabrics
Strolling past like ''fuck yo photo caption''
If ye ain't got it then you bragging, that's automatic
I see no need for me to Tweet, these bitches know my status
I'm the shit, all designer shit, got all kinds of shit
Got Prada around from 1999 and shit, bet you won't find the shit
I'm on my Anna shit, that's Wintour, it's dressed like, it's Met Ball
I'm in Vogue, this winter, the runway, no insta
Got a crib in my closet, Spanish chick in my casa
So much space in my closet, fit your crib in my closet

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
I got more sneakers than niggas, over 4, 000 pairs
Most all white like the Royal Audemars
Got a crib in my closet, hustle every day, nigga
If you work with them people I'm unavailable, nigga
You smell like pork in Mecca, Lord be my protector
Second row at the fight, bitch get on my level
Larry Merchant my nigga, I got Holyfield money
Finger your girl at Coachella, gotta roll in that for me
You should see me in Lennox, I shop 'til I drop
Spent so much on the watch, had a seizure in shock
Wake up and ball, watch how I walk
Money all on my mind, call 'em lucrative thoughts

[Hook]

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