Lyrics Kitchen - Woop, Hollywood

Kitchen

There’s way too many straps off in my kitchen
There’s way too many slides off in my kitchen
I had to move my stove out my kitchen
Just to keep these niggas out my kitchen
There’s way to many straps off in my livin' room
Birds everywhere smells like chicken fumes
I don’t think you pussy, boy you perfume
I just pull up on him, an let bullets vroom
I hit so many plates off in my trap spot
All I know is juug til' I cap out
All I know is get it til' the work gone
Nigga I been robbin' since them chirp phones
I reunite with gangsters at the jack spot
All white mollies got my block hot
4 in the mornin' and they still soft
All they know is 'Woop we need that ready rock'
Still in the kitchen water whippin'
700 ways that’s how we livin'
You can catch a hot one in the kitchen
I can’t let em' disrespect my kitchen
There’s way too many straps off in my kitchen
There’s way too many slides off in my kitchen
I had to move my stove out my kitchen
Just to keep these niggas out my kitchen
I’m exactly what the streets been missin'
Every time I talk they pay attention
Man don’t disrespect me in my kitchen
I swear you can catch one in the kitchen
A lot of water whippin' in the kitchen
A lot of niggas die behind them pigeons
Right wrist look like a bag of piffin
Left wrist look like I’m truly gettin' it
A lot of kush jars off in my cabinets
Real trap niggas be attached to bricks
Woop gang niggas got me jackin' shit
Molly on your bitch like its a mack and shit
Ain’t never hard to find, I’m where that curve at
That used to be where niggas sell them birds at
Now we scramblin' for that pack, like we ain’t hear of sacks
And niggas steady callin' for that purp bag
We still be takin' shit, that how we came up
Niggas hollin' Woop, we switched the name up
Niggas totin' pistols, gettin' flamed up
Just for trying to disrespect my kitchen cuh
Got too much work in my trap, too many straps in my kitchen
I smoke jars jars to the face, when FedEx bring shipments
True Religions got bands in em', Ziplocs got grams in em'
Chicken coop that’s a van
Wit birds stuffed and crammed in em'
I sell drugs where the killers be, and i really hang with robbers
And these belt blocks and mollies, all came from robbin'
High risk, high profit, just to live that high life
I’m cloud surfin on kush clouds, I’m really livin' that cloud life
Shoutout to my shooters, one time for my robbers
Big bank take little bank, so i fed his ass to my partners
Stay the fuck out my kitchen, keep your hands off my stove
And if you pull up with that sack, my whole team on go
I only deal with the plug, cuz the middle man trying to make some
I only deal with the plug, cuz in the end ima take some
Put the pounds in the trash can
Don’t fuck with my dishes
An if it ain’t bout business
Get the fuck out my kitchen