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oink up - whitehouse studio lyrics

[intro: babyface ray]
say, “oink up”
i said it
say it again
(1800 for you)
oink up

[verse 1: babyface ray]
i’m sippin’ pints to the head
i put a price on your head, exchange your life for this ten
i got your back in the first sight of bloodshed
i fell in love quick the first time i saw a bag
if i don’t fetch it down the 6, then i’ma make the hood mad
i been keepin’ it too trill, i done made the plug mad
strip you for your sh*t, place a call, cuz buy it
brodie did it, he was f*cked up, but he up a dub now
let him one touch a n*gga and run you out the club, guy
[verse 2: wtm dae money]
world tour mafia, need an atlas just to find us
spent five hundred on exotics and we fired up
ask for three hundred on this giffy, then i slide up
two percs for her, that’s the oink up special
real cross*state, i hit borders just for extras
i know y’all heard about face bad*ass nephew
get money, f*ck hoes, and hang with n*ggas that’ll stretch you
scammin’ while i’m drivin’, give a f*ck about the mileage
f*cked around and paid two racks to enterprises
oink up lows, the pink and white valentine ones
i was in college writin’ up after doin’ my assignments

[verse 3: dt tha kidd]
i be up early in the morning ’cause it’s money to get
daughter walked in the kitchen, thought i was whippin’ up grits
that’s when i told myself, “man, see this sh*t gotta quit”
twenty minutes later, i was out servin’—
lil’ n*gga, but i keep big racks in my pants
tell a b*tch i wanna f*ck, i don’t be wantin’ to dance
i get money every day, i don’t be havin’ no plans
i don’t even say sh*t, those hoes know i’m the man

[verse 4: brooks]
brooks’ money thick like a book, smokin’ cook’
if your ho ain’t pickin’ up, she probably with us
f*cked up some racks up in saks, i’ll get ’em back
got a ham, they tryna jugg me
babyface pull up with a fully
girl, why you playin’? let me see that p*ssy
why is you lyin’ to my face? i know you full of sh*t
my n*ggas really did this sh*t and claim they innocent
[verse 5: veeze]
i get to shootin’ like a movie ’cause you n*ggas is actors
we turned your b*tch into a slave and you still tryna catch her
i mixed the purple with the red like we play for the raptors
that n*gga said he pourin’ green and i couldn’t stop laughin’
long*ass thirty on my hip, it d*mn near scr*ped me
low*key, i been sneakin’ out of town, i’m still on papers
n*gga, if the money right, i’ll serve a racist
found his body floatin’ ’cause he drowned and wasn’t wavy

[verse 6: los]
man said he dopesick, gettin’ impatient
i can’t talk about sh*t but dope, i can’t fake it
sellin’ work in the hood at coney island
thirty days in the trailer, that’s forty thousand
black chopper, green beam, you can’t run from it
extra hundred dollars, put a drum on it
n*ggas tryna k!ll a n*gga, i know cuz comin’
i got fifty grams of dog, put a dub on it

[outro: los]
yeah
p*ssy*ass n*ggas, ain’t got no love for ’em
p*ssy*ass n*ggas, ain’t got no love for ’em

- whitehouse studio lyrics

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