W.o.w. (without Warning) Lyrics - Prhyme

Put the rap game on a crutch 

Blow the spot without warning 

You get no chance to back down 

Put the rap game on a crutch 

Blow the spot without warning 

You get no chance to back down 

Hop off my Harley Davidson lookin' like I just got hit with a cool stick 

Cherry red boots, cigarette lit and aggravated 

How come it's to this dirt road, moonshine trailer trash trooper 

Everyday's a party happy belated 

If you smokin' marijuana with your mama at 12 

Then we either related or related in jail 

Street thangs, stealin' Honda's for them Asian gangs 

Hopefully Yao Ming's little sister would give me brains 

That's street cred for the uncredible nobodies 

Am I Bon Jovi lookin' like bitches, "I so got it" 

Loud it, Catfish Billy, get stoked shawty 

And I shined up the bowties up that box body 

And Alabama knows it, travel the world with my slangs 

Some of them don't get the slang but Alabama knows it 

I'm sweaty funk, humility punks, fish hook on the hat 

Dirty little then we float back, lips chapped 

I'm country hard 

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Put the rap game on a crutch 

Blow the spot without warning 

You get no chance to back down 

Put the rap game on a crutch 

Blow the spot without warning 

You get no chance to back down 

Ain't nobody fresher than 'em and def with more pressure than 'em 

Never mess with niggas whose image is skinny, stretchy denim 

Just remember everyone who with me winners, 

Everyone who with you dinner 

Bitches with you quick as Brucie Chrissy Jenner 

Chrome rims on a whip just to shine on niggas 

Black tires; the lip white, Tyrone Biggums 

Giving out turkeys on Thanksgiving like Nino with us 

We even passin' out TVs like Wendy Williams 

All I know is that I'm the wild child 

Y'all don't want no smoke with these bars 

All y'all niggas know is y'all SoundCloud 

Hypothetically say I'm pissed, I would definitely AR grip 

I would definitely spray y'all quick 

If y'all expectin' me to hesitate to shoot this bitch 

Then y'all are definitely in the playoffs with J.R. Smith 

I would definitely put my hand in your pocket 

But not the way you want 

I put your whole family in boxes like y'all the Brady Bunch 

Photos 

Put the rap game on a crutch 

Blow the spot without warning 

You get no chance to back down 

Put the rap game on a crutch 

Blow the spot without warning 

You get no chance to back down 

I go bananas, too miraculous to react to mortal mammals 

Cookin' crack in my new velour pajamas 

Gettin' back to my roots, rap where I stored 'em hammers 

Lord of Grammar, my IQ's my actual portal panel 

My IP address is my dressers drawer, 

I ain't stressed unless it's war 

I ain't said shit unless it's more, 

I bet you you'll die less than my irons legend for regrettin' gore 

Ghost whiter than the driven snow and it's headed north 

Lookin' like it's for the seven floors, flows are metaphors 

Buried skulls all over the globe like a Stegosaurus 

My rifle kick back when it get blazed in the sky 

I'm a classic, I get dressed playin' Aquemini 

Don't do some shit to get your wifey kidnapped 

Have you on Twitter beggin' for your bitch back like Sage Gemini 

Why these niggas gettin' their hair dyed and they nails polished 

I'm like Biggie and Pac trapped inside of Big L's body 

Rhymes I create a knock out ya gold tooth 

Battlin' me is like fightin' a gorilla in a phone booth 

I wreck mics and drop the cool speeches 

Nowadays rappers think they motherfuckin' schoolteachers