In "guillermoandrade," Veeze drifts through sleepless excess, counting seven-figure checks while syrup blurs day into night and leaves him seeing visions. The boastful flexing, custom Sickö shoes and paid endorsements, masks a hollow exhaustion, boredom so deep he jokes about pouring weed and smoking lean. Even love is transactional, reduced to expensive gifts and status tests. The repeated image of being too high or too rich to feel anything points to a life on life support, where money keeps arriving but nothing wakes him up.
guillermoandrade Lyrics by Veeze
Yeah, geekin’ in the broad day, still up at night time
Sickö shoes I designed, 424, one of one
Sippin’ Tris make me tired, grind ’til I see the sun
Bro get a special prize, opps got a halo on ’em
Countin’ ’til it hurt my hand, seven digits all my checks
Worse than I ever been, bad bitch, beautiful wrist
Soulja Boy from my hood, name it, I’m the first one did
Drop-top, fuck up the whip, shoppin’ like the shit on sale
Fuck is you free and you broke?
Go rob a bank with a note
I’m trappin’ some brown and white like Will Smith with Tommy Jones
I’m fuckin’ the world, she dead to me, God rest her soul
I’m livin’ my life on DND, I’m holdin’ the racks like a phone
I’m B-O-R-E-D, one girl fuck me and keep
Head top, he a grabba leaf (No kizzy)
I’m off this syrup, it got me seein’ MLK dream
I’m so damn high, I’m ’bout to pour my weed and smoke my lean
Trappin’ on life support, it’s time to go pull on the plug
I’m on the phone gossipin’ with my bitch like I’m Young Thug
I bought her a fur coat, bear hood, Chrome Uggs
It ain’t impossible to fuck my bitch, but you gotta boss up
Bring that pint on my B-day, bae, that real love
How you drivin’ a Toyota if that pussy good?
Right by her head with her Chaneyney scarf, that’s Robin hood
Yeah, she cute but only twenty, give that to lil’ bro
Dog so broke, need to run in the bank, say, “Put y’all hands up”
200K, went kit on the Benz ’cause he wasn’t thinkin’ nothin’
He might be gay, he tatted a tear, but ain’t even caught him one
Paid a few thousand for this sleep, so don’t even wake me up
Oh, yeah
And payin’ for this muddy, ain’t nothin’ at all
She keep pressin’ pussy on me, but I’m constantly stallin’
I’m so rich, all of my bitches mama swear I’m their son
My lil’ bro’nem they spin blocks, I can’t even tell him to stop
This lil’ bitch want clout so bad, she might just call me Karon
I’m on closet Number (N)ine, so many, this shit gon’ go ridin’
I got more drip than you got mo’, this shit I forgot it
How some niggas take yo’ chain, you ain’t doin’ shit back?
I wouldn’t even be able to sleep with me, I be tossin’ and turnin’
They payin’ me to wear these sneakers, bro, I bought for a livin’
I really get paid like an athlete, but I ain’t gotta take no physical
