warhol.ss – kill tek piece (original version) lyrics
[chorus: warhol.ss]
k!ll tec piece, three feet tall, running these streets, we ain’t even crawl
choppa goin’ in, hit it for ya, raised on the east, no front yard
hunnid round drum, won’t run out of ammo, knife on the gun, we gon’ rob a n+gga bando
.223 with the spike like rambo, tote it to the grave, beat a n+gga with a hambone
redbone b+tch, i’ma get in her backbone, big bag on me, i don’t pay tax on ’em
baggin’ up o.g. right about a flash+up, glock no safety, n+gga, what ya mac on?
these n+ggas bitin’ my swag like soulja, n+gga been poppin’ them tags on vlone
geeked up, rockin’ my shades like poker, poured up sippin’ on act’, no keystone
[verse 1: lil mosey]
yeah, six on a new fit, fifty for a drop+top
i was off a bean, thе tech made me wock’ talk
nеver been a lame, ain’t sh+t to make her top drop
smokin’ on gas, ‘wood how i lift off
still poppin’ xans, 2018
pour up the lean, got me stuck in a dream
started hittin’ l!cks back in 2014
i got the ice on me, drippin’ celine (d+mn)
flawless came in off a hun’ (hun’)
me and my n+ggas still drippin’ for fun (fun)
been knew i was the one (one)
still got n+ggas on the run (yeah)
still got money, but i f+ck your ho
i still flip work off a new iphone
i ain’t said sh+t but you already know
certified hit off of rockstar flow
[chorus: warhol.ss]
k!ll tec piece, three feet tall, running these streets, we ain’t even crawl
choppa goin’ in, hit it for ya, raised on the east, no front yard
hunnid round drum, won’t run out of ammo, knife on the gun, we gon’ rob a n+gga bando
.223 with the spike like rambo, tote it to the grave, beat a n+gga with a hambone
redbone b+tch, i’ma get in her backbone, big bag on me, i don’t pay tax on ’em
baggin’ up o.g. right about a flash+up, glock no safety, n+gga, what ya mac on?
these n+ggas bitin’ my swag like soulja, n+gga been poppin’ them tags on vlone
geeked up, rockin’ my shades like poker, poured up sippin’ on act’, no keystone
[verse 2: warhol.ss]
steppin’ in public, that lean in my body, i take your ho to the tropics, hey
takin’ these doses of molly, hey, b+tch, i’m the sh+t like a potty
pour up that actavis, no you can’t lean on me, hop on the flight and i switch up the scenery
i know he p+ssy, that boy ain’t no k!llin’ these, chopper off safety just for the enemies
n+ggas, we talkin’ for internet, no i was never too into that
ayy, maison margiela, they into that and l.a. b+tch so thick, she fittin’ that
she thick, ayy, pay for the extras, put that little ho on a stretcher
choppa gon’ get it bustin’ like vectis, give me some weed, codeine, and extras
[chorus: warhol.ss]
k!ll tec piece, three feet tall, running these streets, we ain’t even crawl
choppa goin’ in, hit it for ya, raised on the east, no front yard
hunnid round drum, won’t run out of ammo, knife on the gun, we gon’ rob a n+gga bando
.223 with the spike like rambo, tote it to the grave, beat a n+gga with a hambone
redbone b+tch, i’ma get in her backbone, big bag on me, i don’t pay tax on ’em
baggin’ up o.g. right about a flash+up, glock no safety, n+gga, what ya mac on?
these n+ggas bitin’ my swag like soulja, n+gga been poppin’ them tags on vlone
geeked up, rockin’ my shades like poker, poured up sippin’ on act’, no keystone
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