Lyrics Warhol.SS – For What
Text:
Warhol.ss:
B.B. Simon belt blingin’
Keep the.9 tucked in this Givenchy
Damn you talk too much, I want you to top me
Picture perfect nigga, I got drip on me now
Hunnid round choppa shootin’, buss him in his eye
Keep the fire nigga, don’t you test it ’cause it’s tucked
Wesson make him buckle, I could give a fuck
Fuck his ho for what
Keep this pole for what
Hit the store for what
Hoppin’ out this truck
Niggas want woods, finna roll up
Choppa on the passenger, I might jus’ cut the stove up
Choppa rob a nigga, we gon’ stop him like a hold up
I’m in traffic ridin’ ’round with’ Peso we be poured up
Deuce or better in this Fanta, nigga don’t you bother me
Rollin’ this gelato, you know we gon’ need all the tree
RX Peso:
Big chain on my neck bling (Bling bling bling)
Rich gang getcha bitch weak
I dropped 8 lines and lost faith (Lost faith)
Real trap nigga my racks never shrink
Check my insta I got drip on me now (Drip now)
I’m in the pot, Saint Laurent, neck down
Givenchy on that ho I bet I pipe her down (Bet I hit)
I lift my wrist up on two cups right now
I hit my DMs, yo bitch in it now
It’s 12 PM, on two of ’em now
It’s fear God but I know God gon’ forgive a killer
I bussdown Rollie’s and count up for my potential
It’s detrimental, get some money, they don’t feel you (They don’t understand)
I want my nigga Warhol play with’ dem my kids (Play with’ our kids)
I pour more codeine so ion gotta feel it
Shoot at 12, kill yo ass in a whistle
It ain’t no talkin’ to zip the bag ‘n I don’t miss
If that’s my nigga then I pour that Actavis
Upgrade my income, I dropped it in the trenches (In the trenches)
Warhol.ss:
B.B. Simon belt blingin’
Keep the.9 tucked in this Givenchy
Damn you talk too much, I want you to top me
Baby don’t be shy I want it sloppy
Picture perfect nigga, I got drip on me now
Hunnid round choppa shootin’, buss him in his eye
Keep the fire nigga, don’t you test it ’cause it’s tucked
Wesson make him buckle, I could give a fuck
Fuck his ho for what
Keep this pole for what
Hit the store for what
Hoppin’ out this truck
Niggas want woods, finna roll up
Choppa on the passenger, I might jus’ cut the stove up
