Lyrics Rich Whore - Kreayshawn

Oh my God, did you hear the new Gucci Man album?
I love Gucci Man! I love Kreayshawn!
Let's get it Bumpin' Bumpin', yeah!

This is for my hoes, hoes in the secondhand clothes
Who use their dollar bill to put the powder in they nose
I love my hoes, hoes in the secondhand clothes
Who use their dollar bill to put the powder in they nose
Rich whore, rich whore, spending at the thrift store
Line it up, line it up, sniff more, sniff more!
Rich whore, rich whore, spending at the thrift store
Line it up, line it up, sniff more, sniff more!
What up, bitch? I heard you go to FIDM
What up, bitch? I see you dancin' with no rhythm
What up, bitch? I know you like that gangsta rap
But you'll prolly piss your pants if you ever seen the trap

I fuckin' hated school but I love my Trapper Keeper
That's where I kept my work, go ahead and ask my teacher
I got pretty features, "Did you major in photography?"
Well, I did, and fuck that noise, I'm a self-taught prodigy
Honestly, I'm probably a bonafide problem child
I was born with hella steez, you had to go buy your style
Ginger Spice, Ginger Spice, hustle hard since Fisher Price
You offer up a couple lines, I just hit the swisher twice
Sporty Spice, Sporty Spice, hustle hard for forty nights
Forty days, 40k, forty hoes, forty wives
Forty fashion students who designing all my merchandise
And she hella shallow, damn, she could be my perfect wife!

This is for my hoes, hoes in the secondhand clothes
Who use their dollar bill to put the powder in they nose
I love my hoes, hoes in the secondhand clothes
Who use their dollar bill to put the powder in they nose
Rich whore, rich whore, spending at the thrift store
Line it up, line it up, sniff more, sniff more!
Rich whore, rich whore, spending at the thrift store
Line it up, line it up, sniff more, sniff more!
What up, bitch? I heard you go to FIDM
What up, bitch? I see you dancin' with no rhythm
What up, bitch? I know you like that gangsta rap
But you'll prolly piss your pants if you ever seen the trap

Broke house, poor house, crack house, trap house
Art loft, sky freight, sky-high penthouse
We in the downtown suite and the view is mayne
A rapper talked about it so she had the system lame
Her boyfriend's in an indie band and got a mustache
The music's fuckin' lame, he lookin' like a muskrat
Trust that, co-sign it, take it it to the bank
You can put a pig in makeup but you can't disguise a skank
I'm sharper than a shank and my marijuana stank
My life is like a work of art, your canvas lookin' blank
So add a little color, put some paint on your palette
Because I fill them galleries, them painter hoes is mad at me!
Line it up, sniff it! Chop it up, sniff it!

This is for my hoes, hoes in the secondhand clothes
Who use their dollar bill to put the powder in they nose
I love my hoes, hoes in the secondhand clothes
Who use their dollar bill to put the powder in they nose
Rich whore, rich whore, spending at the thrift store
Line it up, line it up, sniff more, sniff more!
Rich whore, rich whore, spending at the thrift store
Line it up, line it up, sniff more, sniff more!
What up, bitch? I heard you go to FIDM
What up, bitch? I see you dancin' with no rhythm
What up, bitch? I know you like that gangsta rap
But you'll prolly piss your pants if you ever seen the trap