| C’mon, man, nah mean, it’s our year, I’m on some '08 shit, man
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| This that feel good, right here
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| Calico M one-ten, a hundred rounds in it
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| Rose gold jewels on, selling cracks every minute
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| Big niggas out screaming out, «Two for 15!»
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| Fish scales on the beam, better dope than Grand Street
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| Watch them niggas lean, got burned clean, bitch
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| For 32 on the scene, Machine out the Bim
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| Flavor moccasins on, 400 for the jeans
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| My man got shot next to me, heard that shit sting
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| Retaliate with the wings, Hawks and Desert Eags
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| Got Woolrich peacoats with pumps in the sleeves
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| Pull up in yellow Bimmers like we fuckin' Latin Kings
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| Shootouts in Dewey Park, left the TEC by the swing
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| Pay fees and throw cocktails, heard your mom scream
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| Got goons by each door, you fuckers can’t leave
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| I let the gat sing, MAC ring, I’m doing my thing-thing
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| 40 cal plus dope with no cut brought us more cream
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| Rock the Polo sweats, TEC staying up by the drawstring
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| Scuffed my Bathing Apes hopping over gates, nah mean?
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| Handling six-figure jig, Desert Eagle twins
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| The kid sprinting from a Mandela bid, vanilla Benz
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| Gucci lenses, Uzi vicious under Coogi trenches
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| Sick as Pyrex in kitchens, well-invested riches
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| Jewelry glisten, listen, product kicks delicious
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| Christian Diors, Colombian coke bitches
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| Ten K wrists and Bathing Ape slippers, quarter to eight whippers
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| Cake clippers, air hole TECs with pin triggers
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| Fifteen a brick, AR-15's to blow
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| I swear I seen him flip barefaced to lick shit, invincible
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| Rose gold down on my dick, you despicable
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| Fast life the way we choose to live
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| Gold fronts laced with the ruby bridge
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| High school I wore Iceberg laced with the Snoopy wig
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| Cops will chase us, razors with residue on it
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| We in the majors, tri-color Jacobs
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| Yo, I’m too laced, Versace got shot in his face
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| Wait, plate got shake on it, fiends got great on it
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| Raekwon-ers display warnings, shoot at the head honcho
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| Salvatore Ferragamo’s lucky if you make it 'til tomorrow
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| McLarens have 'em staring great
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| Your shit band was mere vanity appearance
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| You 12 to 8, I’m not sharing
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| Ain’t no money like money from heroin, nigga, nigga
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| It’s fucking Westside gat man (Uh-huh), F.N.I.C. |
| (You already know)
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| Nah mean? |
| We on some '08 shit, man
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| Westside Gunn story, man
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| Nah mean? |
| Guap or die, man, you already fuckin' know, Black Royalty, nah mean?
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| S. Grill killing the fuckin' tracks man, nah mean?
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| We fuckin' ahead of our time B, nah mean?
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| Just, just fuckin' listen man, let that shit ride for a second, man |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Lord of War (Intro) , by - Westside Gunn. Song from the album Flyest Nigga In Charge, Vol. 1, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп