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woke up broke - woop lyrics

[hook: woop]
f-ck y’all broke -ss n-ggas, y’all ain’t getting no money
f-ck y’all basic -ss b-tches, y’all ain’t got nothing fa’ me
dappin up my n-gga, we be hustlin’
i be turning nothin’ into somethin’
woke up broke now a n-gga real straight (4x)
i remember daily turning nothin’ into somethin’ (4x)
woke up broke now a n-gga real straight (4x)
i remember daily turning nothin’ into somethin’ (4x)

[verse 1: p.i. bang]
always been a real n-gga from start to finish
the foreign whip sounding like it got a monster in it
hit the club and we balling like cancer
pistols get to poppin’ at these p-ssies like dancers
n-gga, who the boss? like my name tony danza
talking monkey sh-t well we hit ’em with bananas
lay your -ss flat like a motherf-cking plasma
bullets hit your chest have you breathing like asthma
all i talk is money, man these n-ggas talkin’ reckless
what you paid for your car, i went and spent it on a necklace
diamonds dancing in my chain, man you might as well tip ’em
i body these n-ggas, man you might as well zip ’em
if you going against me, boy you better come with it
you playing with your life, i’m playing with 6 digits
i tell them spray and them n-ggas gon’ spray
i woke up broke now a n-gga real straight (w-ssup?)

[hook: woop]

[verse 2: woop]
they wooping, they groovy, they luggage is louis
that tec got to cool and we call it ted nugent
we roll like a dooly and shoot like a movie
i paint that b-tch face and i p-ss her like cootie
i’m truly in true-y, my diamonds are ruby
you dead by the sewie, left fresh out the poolie
i die ’bout that mooly, you cry ’bout that booty
i jump out the bushes and up on them p-ssies!
my diamonds are red and my [?] are black
blocks out the box for that team
sippin’, trippin’, dippin’, lollipops and my lean
rock out broad day, michael jackson, billie jean
earnhardt car with the bricks in the fender
cooking in the kitchen, wrist spinnin’ like a blender
getaway driver drive like he got wings
real dirty face i pump my gas with a ski
know that if it’s beef and ima keep it in the streets
bout it bout it n-ggas, rock and roll with master p
shout out to my shooters, leave ’em stankin’ like a yeast
selling swag bags, holy moly, good keef
make another dollar every time a n-gga blink
wash the hands with him, evidence was in the sink
born in the streets but my mind timed for hustlin’
but i’m just staying like a n-gga named justin (aye, justin!)

[hook: woop]

[verse 3: dee boi]
i woke every morning to the sound of the fork hitting the bowl
junkies at the door, i’m looking for the corn flakes
daddy yelling “young n-gga, stay yo’ -ss from the stove!” (stay yo’ -ss from the stove)
thinking back then, i was 7 years old (n-gga)
fast-forward right now, “young n-gga, get yo’ -ss missing for a bank roll” (blllll!)
cause i don’t play with these n-ggas
and really, i don’t got sh-t to say to these n-ggas
tote a k for these n-ggas can’t wait for these p-ssy n-ggas try me
have your -ss hooked up to the i.v
and i don’t f-ck with nann n-gga who don’t f-ck with me
i’m getting money, b-tch i don’t wanna f-ck for free
that other n-gga old news, history
and ain’t nann n-gga did sh-t to me!
me and woopie rollin’ ’round with them uzi’s
eating molly by the teaspoon
pouring up, mud, lean and soup
they say i’m out my mind, my brain, aw, man, i done lost my cool
i seen the f-ck n-gga on the corner with it on him, still ain’t gon’ shoot it

[hook: woop]

- woop lyrics

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