Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Celine Dion, artist - Westside Gunn. Date of issue: 23.09.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Celine Dion |
| Robbin' niggas for fun and now my bezel lit |
| We ghetto rich, bang the forty 'til the metal stick (Fah, fah, fah) |
| My nigga pray to the devil, he on some rebel shit |
| Tat his face, never blink when the ratchet shake (Never did) |
| Have a fiend do him dirty for a half a eight |
| Turn his face, got a lawyer that’ll burn the case |
| Get a extra headshot, that’s just for turnin' state |
| We suicidal, lost soldiers in the beef with rivals |
| Told my mama that I love her, loadin' up my rifle |
| We the idol (Motherfucker), you’ll die today, I tell 'em snipe you (Brr) |
| Who the youngest OG? |
| I’ma take that title (That's me, nigga) |
| Jordan, Michael, six ring when the pound strikin' (Fah, fah, fah, fah, fah) |
| Let the first one scream, he thought he saw lightning |
| Frr, they know, yeah |
| Y’all know me |
| Big BSF, nigga |
| Gunn, good lookin', nigga |
| Same nigga, look |
| I turn fifty into eighty if you whip it good (That's a fact) |
| Chop it up, then I’m in your hood (I'm in your hood) |
| Like the engineers, I serve your bitch while she with the kids (Haha) |
| I’m into flips like a gymnast is (Like) |
| You ain’t Mr. Big (Nah), you ain’t never bust a head over price (Pussy nigga) |
| You ain’t never stuffed dope in a bowl of rice (Stop lyin') |
| You got knocked and started singin' like Hova’s wife (Pussy) |
| This street shit is like a roll of dice, nigga |
| And I’m here for the head crack (Uh huh) |
| Over a little cheese, get your head tapped, nigga (Brr), I can’t stand rats |
| (Nah) |
| And these shells is like pesticides on 'em (Bah bah bah), I’m pushin' weight |
| tryna exercise on 'em |
| These bitches think you a chicken box (Why) |
| 'Cause they got some breast and thighs on 'em (Fuck outta here) |
| I just ran out of work, who got some extra pies on 'em? |
| (Who got some work?) |
| And that’s a real question, you niggas still bluffin' (Uh huh) |
| So I got them pills jumpin' (Wait), cleats on, I’m field runnin' |
| You ain’t ever killed nothin', go on drills, nothin', nigga |
| I up the steel, I’m like Phil Drummond (Brr) |
| I wanna bring out the guy that was the challenger in that particular instance |
| we are talking about |
| FLYGOD |
| Who did indeed make a valiant effort to take the title away from Nick |
| Bockwinkel, but |
| First of all let say I’m glad to see your back especially after seeing your |
| front |
| Hahahaha |
| Let me ask you one other thing |
| Did you hear that the court just made a ruling that their gonna have to make |
| the Lone Ranger take his mask off |
| They ever see you the are gonna make a ruling where you’re gonna have to wear a |
| mask |
| Do you realize that? |
| Yeah it’s a rare form day I hear it, okay |
| That’s right baby when I beat the world heavyweight champion |
| I am in rare form and I guess you saw it right there didn’t yah |
| Yeah I saw what could be interpreted I’m certainly by you as a win over the |
| champion, he still, he still rung the bell |
| Could be interpreted? |
| he still rung the bell |
| It was a one two three |
| That’s right took me a couple of minutes longer than I anticipated |
| What, what can you expect I was fighting two world champions that night |
| Ayo, I’m rockin' skates, eatin' thousand dollar plates (Ah) |
| Sold dope for fifteen years straight, I need a break |
| More money on the way (More money on the way) |
| More money on the way |
| Ayo, I’m rockin' skates, eatin' thousand dollar plates (Ah) |
| Sold dope for fifteen years straight, I need a break |
| More money on the way (More money on the way) |
| More money on the way (Lord, Lord) |
| From the change jar, hoppin' out that foreign, slide to Saks and Fifth (Skrrt) |
| Skippin' out that bitch with twenty racks of shit (Yeah) |
| Uh, Off-Whites on, Dior gone |
| Swam on hip, keep belovey feelin' strong (Brr, brr, brr) |
| Prayin' for my sins, chop it up with FLYGOD (Chop it up with FLYGOD) |
| Ms is rollin' in, I ain’t gotta sell hard (I ain’t' gotta sell hard) |
| Exes lookin' sick, but I’m spinnin' in the Tesla (Skrrt) |
| The thirty-eight is mean, but got that thirty on the heckler (Brr) |
| You can catch me up in Neiman’s, I be gettin' some help (Gettin' some help) |
| When I seen you in that bitch, you was coppin' a belt (Fuck outta here) |
| You wasn’t on my side when the vision was felt (Fuck outta here) |
| Belovey, boy, you up some water so them pigeons can melt (Whip, whip) |
| Sold 'caine for nine years, we don’t play around here (Nope) |
| Tried to run off with that, now he stay around chairs (Get that nigga) |
| Got a crowd, but these motherfuckers yellin' out dimes (Dimes) |
| A hundred grams, but I only sell seven at a time |
| Ayo, I’m rockin' skates, eatin' thousand dollar plates |
| Sold dope for fifteen years straight, I need a break |
| More money on the way (More money on the way) |
| More money on the way |
| Ayo, I’m rockin' skates, eatin' thousand dollar plates |
| Sold dope for fifteen years straight, I need a break |
| More money on the way (More money on the way) |
| More money on the way |