Lifestyle (Intro) - WARHOL.SS

I run this shit like a leader, ayy

I collect all my time like a meter, ayy

Measure your time out the beaker, ayy

And we gon' pour up this shit by the liter, yeah

Bitch wanna check my, bet she wanna check how I get fly

Peep this shit like a bird, mean eye

Baby ain’t no worries, we high

Gon' check the urgency

Sit back countin' these chips knowin' niggas wanna murder me, ayy

Hot nigga ridin' round town, burn a nigga with the third degree

Breakin' through the surface, tryna see if this shit worth it

Closin' these curtains, showin' these niggas my purpose

Ayy, if I don’t protect my own

Can’t kick, these niggas just clones

Hear facts, you can hear my tone

Hellcat, you can hear my engine runnin', ayy

Get to work and I call these plays

Good Lord, my nigga won’t fold

Countin' these deads 'til my money get old

Can’t fuck with these niggas, they be penny-pinchin'

Countin' favors, had to fuck your ho until she woke the neighbors

Audemars, stay with the capers

Yeah, you know I’m pimpin', dawg

Showed you niggas how to ball

I’m the one that stack it tall

Asian persuasion, I like your cajun, ayy

Lost my train of thought from all these woods I’m facin'

Pinot Gris the taste, Mason Margiela lace

Niggas want that smoke, it’s on delivery, be sure to answer

I flood the streets, I leave the levies broke, ayy

No nigga cut like me, can’t speak the shit I spoke

It’s known to shoot, I always show up at the woke, ayy

That blasphemy you speakin', hope a nigga choke, choke

Keep my pistol, hey

Nigga want smoke with me, gang

Hollow-tips bullets gon' kiss you, ayy

Damn then your mama gon' miss you, hey, ayy

Hop out the jeep, then hop in the G, I’m switching, hey

Keep that fire like Benson, huh, piece up all intentions

Lord knows I’ma hold down my own

Real nigga shit, bread up in my bones

I ain’t got no time to waste, ayy, woah

Visine in my vision, eyes gon' find a way

Asian persuasion, I like your cajun, ayy

Lost my train of thought from all these woods I’m facin'

Pinot Gris the taste, Mason Margiela lace

Niggas want that smoke, it’s on delivery, be sure to answer

I flood the streets, I leave the levies broke, ayy

No nigga cut like me, can’t speak the shit I spoke

It’s known to shoot, I always show up at the woke, ayy

That blasphemy you speakin', hope a nigga choke, choke