Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mr. Fuji, artist - Westside Gunn. Album song Hitler's Dead, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 07.06.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Griselda
Song language: English
Mr. Fuji |
| Ayo, fuck these niggas, yo |
| Fuck 'em! |
| Fuckin' voice going out screaming on these niggas |
| I’m a fuckin' legend |
| Get the fuck outta here, yo |
| Ayo, I heard they pray to FLYGOD, you better be |
| Hit the brick with the pedigree |
| Flyer than me, Lord, you can never be |
| I got some niggas, shoot your kids, then get up for an extra key |
| No heart niggas |
| CDG’s hearts on the shark head, pick the coffin niggas |
| I popped up like The Undertaker |
| Six on the stove another brick watch the crystals when it break up |
| Money machines running like Team Jamaica |
| Crept in the cell on the wake-up, left a nigga poked on the bottom bunk bed |
| Hit another brick with the rock bottom, nigga |
| Went out for lunch (went out for lunch) |
| Table-cloth Fendi nigga |
| I fuck around and hit any nigga |
| I’m Jig, not Jigga, nigga |
| That’s Conway, I’m more like Biggs, nigga |
| Listening to Big, nigga |
| Weighing up some big, nigga |
| My nigga did 10 |
| He came home looking like Sid Vicious |
| 32 shots’ll flip ya |
| Flip your baby mama |
| Flip your grandmama |
| My nigga did 5 |
| Came home looking like Ahmed Johnson |
| What up, my nigga? |
| Bossanova pies with the extra skirt |
| Bought some soda for my guy so he can stretch the work |
| I bet it hurt for niggas to see me bop, Know what they said at first? |
| Con look at your face, you not marketable, it’ll never work |
| Now T’s with my face on it, top-selling shirts |
| I’ve got mills in different countries, boy watch how a legend work |
| Kilo necklace on my shirt, Smith and Wesson work |
| Youngun' shooting on one leg, he call his weapon Dirk |
| Shooters lurk for you, black van with the Hecklers in it |
| Have a nigga wacked before my breakfast finished |
| That bitch kids at school, we in the kitchen cheffin' in it |
| Cook smoke, I let him keep the pot with all the extras in it |
| It’s getting spooky for these rappers, right? |
| Cause they already know that we don’t rap alike |
| They know they ain’t half as nice, I ain’t even have to write |
| I feel like Pun, no wonder these niggas living this afterlife |
| Niagara Cafe, I had the rice with the pollo |
| Quarter brick of the white go for ocho |
| Had to throw the ice in the ro ro |
| Buffalo nigga with a Sean Price mixed with Hov flow |
| They throwing salt, Mr. Fuji, huh |
| They must want a nigga flip it, make a movie, huh |
| It’s pimp or die, you know these hoes out here choosing up |
| You wanna take pictures with rappers, male groupie, huh |
| All my niggas hit the streets, fuck going check to check |
| You got no money in your pockets, yet you fresh to death |
| Kush God bitch, the of best |
| Got the work bustin' through your city like the Lex express |
| He tryna get a plate on the arm |
| The moment he started rubbing me raw |
| I told him you die in a droubt if you wait in a storm |
| In other words, I payed for his bond |
| No damn favors, these grams like Van Vader |
| Landscaping the game, you can’t save it |
| Natural heal, but a fan favorite |
| Here to fuck up the fun, they ain’t fucking with son |