Luxury Flow is a post-afro song about living rich. Featuring male vocalist Blisterz.
Luxury Flow (Post-Afro) - Hugh Mungus™
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Yeah, I wake up rich, no alarm, just the shine,
Gold on my wrist, tell the time with a blind.
Chains hittin' heavy like a church bell chime,
Pull up in the drop, leave the haters behind.
Diamonds dancin', VVS ice,
Bad lil' shorty on my right, roll the dice.
Yachts in the harbor, cars in the fleet,
Chillin' with the boys, livin' elite.
Step in the room, they smell the money cologne,
Custom kicks steppin' on the marble alone.
Louis on my feet, Off-White on the cap,
Backpack full of blue faces, never lookin' back.
I flooded the Patek, rose gold bezel glow,
Every link in the chain got a story to show.
From the block to the top, now the views panoramic,
Penthouse sky high, panoramic, damn it.
Women in designer, silk on they skin,
Walk in the club, whole section spin.
I don't chase, they pull up with the bottles,
Model type, private jet models.
Roll the dice on life, I always hit seven,
Stack it to the ceiling, send the rest to heaven.
Yeah, I wake up rich, no alarm, just the shine,
Gold on my wrist, tell the time with a blind.
Chains hittin' heavy like a church bell chime,
Pull up in the drop, leave the haters behind.
Diamonds dancin', VVS ice,
Bad lil' shorty on my right, roll the dice.
Yachts in the harbor, cars in the fleet,
Chillin' with the boys, livin' elite.
Lamborghini Urus, blacked out, no keys,
Push-button start, watch the horses breathe.
Top down on the highway, wind in my braids,
Sunset behind me, paint drippin' in waves.
Yacht named "No Losses," 80 feet of pure flex,
Captain pour the Ace, we ain't takin' no checks.
Boys in the section, all VVS drippin',
Laughin' 'bout the days we was penny-pinchin'.
Now it's Maybachs, Cullinans, foreigns on foreigns,
Wrist look like a lighthouse when the sun hit the torrent.
Caps tilted, fresh out the box,
Shoes rare as my circle, no knockoffs.
She said "How you afford this?" I said "Grind don't stop,"
Then I hopped on the jet, left her heart in the skybox.
Chillin' with the gang, rooftop, city lights,
Puffin' on exotic, countin' M's through the night.
Gold ropes thicker than the plot that they hatin' with,
Every move calculated, never navigatin' stiff.
Women love the aura, love the way I talk humble,
But the watch cost a house, make 'em fumble.
From the trap to the map, I expanded the vision,
Now every destination feel like a mission.
Pop the trunk, new heat for the summer,
Not the illegal kind—just the latest new color.
Drip so insane, meteor shower when I walk,
Whole gang eatin', no crumbs on the fork.
Yeah, riches on riches, chains on chains,
Shoes in the closet got they own names.
Drive through the city like I own the terrain,
Chillin' with my boys, pour another champagne.
I did it my way, no co-sign, just grind,
Luxury life—now the world is mine.
©2026 Hugh Mungus