Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 99 Avirex, artist - Westside Gunn. Date of issue: 23.09.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
99 Avirex |
| Feds kicked the door, this the realest shit I never wrote |
| Baby mama sped up in the Benz screamin' «Let 'em go» |
| Killed my young nigga, was the realest one I ever known (Killed my y-) |
| Feds kicked the door, this the realest shit I never wrote (This the realest |
| shit I never wrote) |
| Sun shinin' on my Black skin |
| Still got the birds going crazy, I’m tapped in |
| We was all broke, past tense, now we dance, bricks |
| Hermès alligator jacket, the MAC-10 (This the realest shit I never wrote) |
| Young, Black and belligerent back in them tenements |
| Backtrackin' my innocence, crack was the genesis |
| G-packs and Guinnesses, macks on the premises |
| All I envision is stacks when I reminisce |
| In the mix is mood swings, you do things |
| Chasin' cheddar, better lace your shoe strings |
| Few scheme, others hate, in other states |
| Your circle wrong, cases form another shape |
| Off the blake and set aside, look what arrived |
| Mobb Deep presence with my mother eyes, I come alive |
| Undenied is GOAT status, the most dappest |
| From old habits, I wrote classics, so graphic |
| Lost Phil, they killed Will, Paul dead |
| Trav did a twelve in the feds with my coke head |
| Low-res, picture blurry, peep the obituary |
| To fuck the world, you gotta switch it for missionary |
| Feds kicked the door, this the realest shit I never wrote |
| Baby mama sped up in the Benz screamin' «Let 'em go» |
| Killed my young nigga, was the realest one I ever known (Killed my y-) |
| Feds kicked the door, this the realest shit I never wrote (This the realest |
| shit I never wrote) |
| Sun shinin' on my Black skin |
| Still got the birds going crazy, I’m tapped in |
| We was all broke, past tense, now we dance, bricks |
| Hermès alligator jacket, the MAC-10 (This the realest shit I never wrote, ayo) |
| Made two fiends smack box, whoever won got a fifty (Ah) |
| Hater actin', man down at the Whitney (Ah) |
| Pissy staircases, pissy elevators, namesakes faded |
| Pray that my new dope spot don’t get raided |
| Bricks look so good, I didn’t want to break it |
| You ain’t ever spent a quarter mil' in dope money on a painting |
| Pacin' with the Draco |
| My Rollie looked out of date, I spit in your mama face |
| The Langerfield sofa match the Prada drapes, shoppin' ace |
| Chop a kid finger off, you no compensate, you know how I operate (Ah) |
| Told my Spanish plug meet at The Monterey, ándale |
| Started weighin' at the Days Inn |
| Some homies shinin', some homies blazin' |
| Spent seven hundred on jewels, my neck amazing |
| Rest in peace Chine Gun, rest in peace Bacon (Ah) |
| Feds kicked the door, this the realest shit I never wrote |
| Baby mama sped up in the Benz screamin' «Let 'em go» |
| Killed my young nigga, was the realest one I ever known (Killed my y-) |
| Feds kicked the door, this the realest shit I never wrote (This the realest |
| shit I never wrote) |
| Sun shinin' on my Black skin |
| Still got the birds going crazy, I’m tapped in |
| We was all broke, past tense, now we dance, bricks |
| Hermès alligator jacket, the MAC-10 (This the realest shit I never wrote) |
| Griselda by Fashion Rebels |