fancy (ft. Iggy Azalea and Charli XCX)
first things first was the real business of remaking your byline lilt, tap out the urban nightscape where you are untouchable - your breath unfurling over midtown taxi lights.
everyone going someplace better, everyone wishing they weren't. spill a cup of goose on your lap, on wrist money like nothing is money unless you dress it up. take your liquor straight in the back of his cab
because he told you to.
you raid the penthouse mini bar for the drunk call hard sale of chandeliers but nothing's hard like rocks on your fingers, rocks through the window. nothing says fancy like a mouth full of gold triggers you know not to use.
if this tastes like gold it's worth the blow
and his small heart and the bold pretense of a hotel room, what you already know there waiting.