| The fuck yo?
|
| I don’t even know why, I don’t even know I’m fuckin' this ill my nigga,
|
| I just am
|
| SE Gang
|
| Yo, everyday I pray to J Dilla
|
| It’s a full time job not spray a nigga
|
| All this dope ain’t gon' sell itself
|
| Gut shot made his stomach melt
|
| Pulled off in an Audi wagon
|
| Did a U-ey came back with fully automatics
|
| Mad Max with the black MAC, left his body parts in a trash bag
|
| Up in Visits talkin' past glass
|
| Now it’s buyin' dinners eatin' crab legs
|
| Everything on me vintage, pourin' champagnes over scale
|
| Sly, we did it
|
| Aventadors on tour, so many guns on me you would think it’s war
|
| Not at all, I’m just paranoid
|
| Pair of jumpers, Vera Wang, we them Vera boys
|
| Close my eyes I seen pies, inhaled I smelled crime
|
| Kept my ears open, I was focused
|
| Thirty AK-6 shells will flip your Lotus
|
| These niggas bogus, they like three-quarters soda
|
| Lyrically I’m off the boat with it
|
| Studded Loubout' duffle with stupid coke in it
|
| Assholes with gas stoves, nigga you reap what you sow
|
| Lake, I’m out on Chippawa
|
| I’m the dopest, I don’t give a fuck who you are
|
| I don’t give a fuck who you are
|
| Like Adolf, I got no remorse
|
| Slice your baby moms with a dirty box cutter
|
| The real hood forever
|
| Finesse right and skin tight Moschino and Fendi leathers
|
| Poetic gun flow, I’m Nikki Giovanni with the Hublot
|
| Blood stains on my six inch Stilettos
|
| Steppin' on your throat, worse than Hitler doing lines of coke
|
| Burnin' some purple OG, I’m Illmatic times three
|
| Sick destiny, visualize a hustler’s complexity
|
| Murderous tendencies, Balenciaga bag full of blue face Benji’s
|
| Keisha Plum, Westside Gunn, 716 infamy |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Vera Boys, artist - Westside Gunn. Album song Hitler's Dead, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп