| Ayo, I’m from a back block on the east side, peace and war
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| Out on Leroy with the MAC on, peace Allah (Brr)
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| My whole portfolio is gangster, whip with cocaine
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| Just shot a nigga on the anklet (Boom, boom, boom), sellin' dope
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| Save this Persian rug five times a day, prayers, niggas tasteless
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| Cells pop, niggas came through, stabbed 'em on the wakeup (Ah)
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| Niggas catch you at the showers for a hundred soups
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| Bought a goose, we pulled up in a couple coupes (Skrt)
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| The chopper on double loop (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot,
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| doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
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| Your body got hugged, but not enough to shoot
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| We baggin' up trouble at the W, what’s up with you? |
| We huntin' too (Ah)
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| Still plottin' and schemin', on the cot, daydreamin'
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| Get shot out the Heron, pray demon, you ain’t breathin ' (Skrt, boom, boom,
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| boom, boom, boom)
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| The yay reekin', your lips movin', you ain’t breathin'
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| You start coughin' up blood for the same reasons, you ever sold a hundred?
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| Then spent it all in the same weekend, razors leave your face leakin' (Ah)
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| Chill, let the Wraith creep, and the brick broke in eight pieces
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| Double Cs on the suede sneakers, I kick the real shit
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| Who you be? |
| Where you bome from? |
| I had to build shit (Ah, I had to build shit,
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| boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
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| I had to build shit (I had to build shit, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom,
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| boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
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| Look, uh, we was sellin' dog food and we was sellin' fish (Cap)
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| Feds was buildin' cases, they ain’t never stick (Hahahaha)
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| Y’all had the triple beam dreams, we really measure bricks (We really sold that)
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| Shit was movin' fast as we cookin' up, we sell it quick (Hah)
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| Any beat I’m on, I gotta get my shit off
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| Your watch ain’t cost thirty and up? |
| Take that shit off (Take that shit off,
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| nigga)
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| I’m impactin' the culture like Eric Bischoff
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| Big biscuit of that Biscotti makin' my bitch cough (Cap)
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| They on Google, they wonder what I got rich off
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| They see me pullin' off in that Don, the top lift off (Hah)
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| The kid from May Street that used to whip soft (Whip)
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| And let his fif' off, now I’m the big boss, I drop the bag, I have you picked
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| off (Boom, boom, boom, boom)
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| My shooter don’t speak but you can tell that he dangerous (Cap)
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| He just aim steady the stainless (Hah)
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| Drive-bys out of minivans, Chevys, and Ranges (Brr)
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| Rap nigga go to the club in my city, tuck every chain in (Hah)
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| Get niggas clipped while I’m with celebrities hangin' (Uh huh)
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| I got two felonies, now they tell me I’m famous (I'm famous now)
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| My life is definitely changin'
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| Roc Nation brunch, I’m with a R&B singer gettin' better acquainted (What up,
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| baby?)
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| If thou steal from Flygod, that’s a sin
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| It ain’t another rapper that’s alive that can match my pen
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| Back again, MAC clap your men, stack the half an M
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| I was him, before you ever heard me on a track with Em (The Machine, nigga)
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| Yo, look back, three years ago, when ain’t nobody know me (Nobody)
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| Now I treat this rap shit just like somebody owe me (Butcher comin', nigga)
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| Think it’s a game until I Patrick Kane somebody homie
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| That’s slidin' through with a stick, shootin' one by the goalie (Brr)
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| I got nice, practice repeated, when rappers was decent
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| When you ain’t leave the house unless your gat was matchin' your sneakers (Yeah)
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| Is y’all nigga rappin' or tweetin'? |
| (What else?) Stackin' or beefin'?
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| (What y’all doin'?)
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| I get you whacked at The Venetian for blasphemous speakin', uh huh
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| Watch band snakeskin, gang at the door, let the apes in
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| Twenty-k spent, that’s how my day went
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| Bulletproof the foreign to feel safe in (I'm good)
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| Mirrors smoke grey tint, it’s just to take trips to the bank in
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| Telly by the border, Glock on top of the covers (Uh huh)
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| The room next door got duffles stacked on top of each other
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| Me and my old plug alright (We cool), but we don’t rock with each other
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| That was only business, and we done did a lot for each other (I made that nigga
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| rich)
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| Yeah, I’ll fuck around and leave the party with my tool ringin' (Boom, boom,
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| boom, boom, let’s go)
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| Jewels blingin', tailored suit like a blues singer |
| You know my back wood like two fingers (Tuh), hustler, I’m the true meanin'
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| Turned one to two like I’m Houdini (My stove game still official)
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| Yeah, this for the corners that we anointed (Anointed)
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| Opened up with a small group of soldiers that I appointed (Uh)
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| I’m up due to all of the bullshit that I avoided
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| She suck, fuck, count up the money, but still annoyin'
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| It’s Griselda, nigga
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| I’ma loosen my collar, y’all, hold on
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| What’s up, y’all, it’s St. Louis, representin' this OG
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| And this OG, once again, y’all know who we is
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| We all over the world, but somebody love us
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| This lady love us
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| Oh, we gon' do this, I’ma quit talkin', like
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| I’ma loosen my collar, baby, let’s get busy
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| Hut, hut
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| Boom, boom, boom, nigga like work, work
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| Westside, pop gang, nigga, throw 'em up
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| Boom, boom, boom, nigga, we don’t give a fuck
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| What? |
| What? |
| Nigga, what?
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| Boom, boom, boom, Hail Mary
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| Boom, cha-boom, told you niggas scary
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| Boom, boom, boom, that nigga 'bout to run
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| Click-clack, them niggas got guns
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| Boom, boom, boom, Hail Mary
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| Boom, cha-boom, told you niggas scary
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| Boom, boom, boom, that nigga 'bout to run
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| Click-clack, them niggas got guns, like
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| Boom, boom, boom |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song George Bondo, artist - Westside Gunn. Album song Pray for Paris, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп