W4RD lyrics

[Intro]
f*ck, man
No f*ckin' money, no f*cking 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
What the f*ck
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
Blew it in the wind breeze
80 dime bags boomin' like Alicia Keys
Wakin' up around 9, seen a n*gga on the grind
Real Raider 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
Cut another down b*tch
10 Spicy is the clique
Rich mob with Triple 6, Triple 7 comin' through
Ridin' in the f*ckin' phantom, smokin' like a tea kettle
Hoppin' out the space shuttle, ridin' in the other whip
Gold ass white b*tch, icy 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 a b*tch
Slow it down 2 times for the hoes with the wrist game
Sold through the back, switch lanes, and sh*t change
But they do it by my nickname
Skate around town, schemin' on these dumb hoes
Looking slick up in my clothes
([?])
n*ggas used to call me Oreo
Jeans still tight, rockin' twin golds
Paid 20 items for the chemist shoes
With his coat, b*tch