Lyrics Ostertag - Westside Gunn, Stove God Cooks

Ostertag

Brick in my daughter newborn bag
When they was scared to get it through the mail, man, I went Utah Jazz (Woo)
They said, «Stovie, think you made it?»
How can I decipher?
Just know that I jumped in and killed, bitch, I’m Roddy Piper (Just know that)
They love my album like I died (Like I died)
I’m thirty kilos high, I brought the stove alive (Woo)
Then I dance on it
Last one had Hitler stamped on it, twenty-four carat gold pan jumpin'
Two hundred bands in the Chrome Heart pants, it’s nothin' (It's nothin')
I read your offer, that shit was disgusting (Haha)
I might sell my next shit for a million (For a million)
Only seven copies and I’m dead for real (I'm so serious)
Tell your favorite rapper I don’t feel him (Tell him I don’t feel him)
Tell the plug the doors is off, it’s time to fill up (It's time to get it)
If we make it home, we gon' kill him
Wins like this (Woo), feel like when the Pistons had Chauncey Billups (Stove)
Ain’t that the word on the street
FLYGOD has the best shit