Turnaround

[Intro] (?) (Wheres yo passion) (On the bag?) (?) Aye, (Thank you fizzle) [Chorus: Warhol.SS] Aye, Walking out a trap looking for the quickest turn around We not doin' no tresspassing, nigga we gone gun him down Draws and them titties, fifties and the hundred rounds Kick down the door, lay it down, better not make a sound Pressure in my wood that's eight feet Real boss nigga I don't fake beef Playing with that money, it's a late fee They'll get me, we take his body, get to taping [Verse 1: Warhol.SS] I don't fuck pale hoes they look pasty It's a thot, beat it down, ain't no cake in it In the kitchen cook it up with a apron I don't need swine so I fuck with turkey bacon I might roll another one, I don't do the vaping Straight facts Walking like I'm diddy now, take that, take that Niggas rockin' fools gold, thought he signed an 8-track Tints so dark I can't see nothing in this Maybach We ain't coming in, big boss, we on jets bitch Lay a nigga down, see it's different how that Tec hit Ace poppin, it's a big bottle on my Meek shit And I know you ain't no broke nigga on that cheap shit [Chorus: Warhol.SS] Aye, Walking out a trap looking for the quickest turn around We not doin' no tresspassing, nigga we gone gun him down Draws and them titties, fifties and the hundred rounds Kick down the door, lay it down, better not make a sound Pressure in my wood that's eight feet Real boss nigga I don't fake beef Playing with that money, it's a late fee They'll get me, we take his body, get to taping [Verse 2: Desto Dubb] These VVS' shining real crazy Bless your momma but she still got a late fee You bring the pints to my city that's a state fee I'm all about the dough like pastries My fit is all army but my wrist is the navy His girl got my hoodie on, I know the nigga hate me I got four baby bottles, I ain't got one baby You worry about the roaches but the snakes really shady They call me [?] , sell dope like Jay Z I don't play games so I know they can't face me Raised in the sixies but was born in the eighties Your nigga in a uber, so he can't even race me [Chorus: Warhol.SS] Aye, Walking out a trap looking for the quickest turn around We not doin' no tresspassing, nigga we gone gun him down Draws and them titties, fifties and the hundred rounds Kick down the door, lay it down, better not make a sound Pressure in my wood that's eight feet Real boss nigga I don't fake beef Playing with that money, it's a late fee They'll get me, we take his body, get to taping