WYM (Woah) Lyrics – Juvenile | Boiling Point

Read the full WYM (Woah) lyrics by Juvenile from the album Boiling Point along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song.

[Chorus: Akeem Ali]
Said woah
Baby, what you mean? I’m on fire
Whip clean, sheen on my tires
I make them hoes cream when they hop on top Keem, Oscar Mayer
I’m picky with my b!tches, I’m too biased
I had to ask ’em, woah
Baby, what you mean, you ain’t rolling?
I don’t know what you mean, is you jocing?
That n!gga, girl, he green, yeah, he moldy
This money in my jeans, it ain’t folding
So what the fu*k you mean, you ain’t rolling?

I said woah

[Verse 1: Akeem Ali]
Put this s*it in motion, I had flavor ‘fore I knew I did
I’m tryna fu*k, it’s you or your friend, I don’t care who I hit
Show me that you ’bout it, chop a n!gga in a fishbowl
And I’m up there, these n!ggas been falling off like some big clothes
Show me something, baby, tell me something, let me know what’s cracking
Bust it opеn, say you love a n!gga, let me know what’s happеning
Fu*k we talking? Baby, this ain’t bowling, I don’t spare b!tches
I wave my hand and make this s*it happen, look like I’m airbending
Show stopper, tell ’em sit calm, b!tch, I’m a soap opera
I can’t see you n!ggas with my shades, these some ho blockers
Fu*k you n!ggas, I don’t talk to nobody
I’m in my own zone and these shrooms I’m on got me moving robotic

[Chorus: Akeem Ali]
Said woah
Baby, what you mean? I’m on fire
Whip clean, sheen on my tires
I make them hoes cream when they hop on top Keem, Oscar Mayer
I’m picky with my b!tches, I’m too biased
I had to ask ’em, woah
Baby, what you mean, you ain’t rolling?
I don’t know what you mean, is you jocing?

That n!gga, girl, he green, yeah, he moldy
This money in my jeans, it ain’t folding
So what the fu*k you mean, you ain’t rolling?
I said woah

[Verse 2: Juvenile]
B!tch, what you mean? How you gon’ live with that?
I know you only fu*k with gorillas and I’m a silverback
You fine, in fact, I know you eating good ’cause all of your children fat
Hot Boy, medium chopper, no one can mirror that
‘Nolia level, gotta mold your hoes ’cause they don’t know no better
Hoes are jealous, once they get that old, they think you go together
Rubbing toes together, sole stroking on top of rose petals
Go in deep and take it off, raise it up to her shoulder levels
Validated, b!tch, let me give you the translation
I’ma never come out my shell like I’m parked at the gas station
‘Nolia baby, motivated by money, nothing that’s ho related
All I smoke is weed, don’t be putting that s*it in my soda, baby

[Chorus: Akeem Ali]
I said woah
Baby, what you mean? I’m on fire
Whip clean, sheen on my tires
I make them hoes cream when they hop on top Keem, Oscar Mayer
I’m picky with my b!tches, I’m too biased
I had to ask ’em, woah
Baby, what you mean, you ain’t rolling?
I don’t know what you mean, is you jocing?
That n!gga, girl, he green, yeah, he moldy
This money in my jeans, it ain’t folding
So what the fu*k you mean, you ain’t rolling?
I said woah