W4RD lyrics

[Intro]
f*ck, man
No f*ckin' money, no f*ckin' b*tches to chill with
No mothaf*ckin' gas money
sh*t
Holes in all my f*ckin' shoes, n*gga
Holes in all my socks
Man, what the f*ck
Man, f*ck it, f*ck it

[Verse]
Rolled two cigarillos, had to get my trees up
Copped two more golds, had to get my steez up
Blow it in the wind breeze
80 dime bags boomin' like Alicia Keys
Wakin' up around 9, seen the n*gga on the grind
Real wavy type sh*t
Real creative ass n*ggas with a foreign type b*tch
Coke stains on her lips, from the 'caine that she licked
But an under down b*tch
Terrorist Posse is the clique
b*tch Mob with Triple 6, Triple 7 comin' through
Hidin' in the f*ckin' van we smokin' like a tea kettle
Hoppin' out the space shuttle, ridin' in the hover whip
Gold ass white b*tch, artsy ass black b*tch
Psychedelic trap sh*t, shootin' camera shots
Black Kray got extended clips
[Chorus]
(Psychedelic trap sh*t, shootin' camera shots
Black Kray got extended clips, uh)
Psychedelic trap sh*t, shootin' camera shots
Black Kray got extended clips
(Psychedelic trap sh*t, shootin' camera shots
Black Kray got extended clips, uh)

[Verse 2]
Had to slow it down one time for the b*tch
Slow it down 2 times for the hoes with the wrist game
Sold through the back, switch lanes, ain't sh*t change
But the girl lick on my di*k, mane
Skate around town, schemin' on these dumb hoes
Looking slick up in my clothes
([?] Juve [?])
n*ggas used to call me Oreo
Jeans still tight, rockin' twin golds
Page 20 [?] for the camera shoots
With his coke, b*tch