Baccarat (part. Luis R Conriquez y Armenta)

European girls just to mess around
I want more of that angel dust
The presidential suite, smelling like Baccarat intercontinental
I feel butterflies with the blow
I’ll take you to heaven, even if I’m not going there
I lit up a Black Widow at the Rubicon
Drenched in diamonds, that damn supercar

Oh-oh
A damn muscle car, out in the city
The shirt’s Dior, sometimes camo
If it’s not Lady Gaga, it’s Methuselah here
Smoking in LA like Snoop Dogg
Good girl in the Urus, heading to a club real quick
The blue horn gives me protection

Yeah!
Compa Armenta, compa Said
Ar-men-ta
Trakas
Oh, and pure Kartel Music, old school

Strawberry jam for the blunt
I pass the smoke to that girl
Like Paris Hilton, her vape’s cherry
Riding in a Lambo, I got it on all fours
From Tsurito, the caps are JC Hats
With diamonds from my San Juditas
I got Rolexes in every color
And all kinds of flavors of the powder I sell

Oh-oh
A damn muscle car, out in the city
The shirt’s Dior, sometimes camo
If it’s not Lady Gaga, it’s Methuselah here
Oh-oh
Smoking in LA like Snoop Dogg
Good girl in the Urus, heading to a club real quick
The blue horn gives me protection