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lirik lagu frank murphy – westside gunn

[intro: stove god cook$]
c*c*c*conductor
ah

[verse 1: stove god cook$]
stovie’s home, i spin keys to gold
saran wrap on the floor, been rippin’ ’em bruce bowen
my young boy got the pole, his stock went up though (ha)
he said now he want twenty thousand to get him gone (hahaha)
i said, “last week, you shot a n*gga over an emoji” (he did)
followed him home and ran him up the steps like stallone (brr, bap, bap)
with the uzi bag on to catch the sh*lls like julio jones (brr, bap, bap, bap)
my plug look like razor ramon (woo)
i’m not sayin’ i’m the end all, be all
man, f*ck it, i’m the end all, be all (f*ck it)
we laughin’ at the list they ain’t puttin’ me on (hahaha, ah)
high steppin’ on the bricks likе deon
i f*cked up this summer (i did!)
makе sure you tell ’em n*ggas back there in the office countin’ numbers (tell ’em)
don’t ever judge a book by the cover
b*tch, judge a cook by how it bubble (stove)

[interlude: estee nack]
yeah, yeah (oh)
pagin’ conductor, nack, n*gga
superman nack (yeah)
captain nack sparrow (ahaha, oh)
[?] el pirata
[?] ([?])
y’all n*ggas know the story ([?])
it’s all glory ([?])
ayo (uh huh)
[verse 2: estee nack]
i need my n*ggas to come back from the past
without me havin’ to manifest through this fly livin’ (i miss my n*ggas)
my n*gga fuji was the heart of mine, tragic allies (fuj)
my n*gga diamond was my partner and my first barber (man, that’s your barber)
that n*gga had me late night, studio with all the guala, guala n*ggas
talkin’ numbers ([?]), now the hustlers be jumpin’ like “cowabunga” (trap)
hit you n*ggas with fat sh*t, treinta y un
was never twenty eight (official), never needed to hustle ot
but n*ggas will come from ot to see me (what you need?)
so my connection was impeccable, now exceptional (yeah)
bones used to bring them through when they was blue (adlib), he let me hold a few
then the feds came to rico, the pressure was uncontrollable, yo (woo)
it’s time to get this money back and longer (let’s get this back)
better have your ratchet on you, crips california (crips)
dominicans don’t play, from washington heights to lynn to lawrence
santa domingo get the grams of the [?] to the gringo
you focusin’ on your next single (what’s wrong with you?), i’m with your b*tch tryna mingle
riches, puerto rico, francisco, bring ’em in through haiti
coast guard easier to pay off ([?])
we ain’t playin’ games and ain’t tryna take the day off (woah)
2010, i made a hundred in the street, n*ggas was furious
thotties watch my elevation and plus weird n*ggas hatin’ on me
and they was curious (d*mn), lactose made our livin’ luxurious (woah)
everything we touch in a golden state like the warriors, n*gga (doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
yeah, sh*t’s alchemy, my n*gga
woah, gold versace frame, live glorious (bling, bling, bling, bling, bling, yeah)
you know the story kid
[interlude: elcamino]
you know, n*gga, you know
n*gga, you know
n*gga, you know
n*gga, you know the vibes, yo, uh

[verse 3: elcamino & flee lord]
these n*ggas hate to see me winnin’ (they hate that)
i fell off the jungle gym and then i started whippin’
right at the blink of an eye, we went from slapboxin’ to pistol fights (bow, bow)
my lil’ puerto rican b*tch’ll come give you a kiss goodnight (mwah)
a sniff of white sh*t, you f*ck around, that was impolite
baby, i’m just livin’ my life (sh*t, you good?), you only get one, so just live it right
none of this sh*t came overnight, took so many long days of sacrifice
i’m just livin’ my afterlife, just made another twenty thousand sittin’ at the light (that’s my word)
they say to raise a man it take a village, uh (that was bullsh*t)
i run a real business, i ain’t just tryna maintain an image (for real)
and talk n*ggas to death ’bout how i’m a crazy spitter
but i will talk your ass to death ’bout how i made six figures (let’s talk about it)
and as far as the ones left, ain’t that many real n*ggas (not at all)
i was thinkin’ small too ’til my money got bigger (real sh*t)
n*ggas couldn’t f*ck with me since elcamino one (at all)
richest n*gga under 30 and that’s on my son (lord, lord)

[verse 4: flee lord]
wrist on bruce banner, my clique brought a few blammers (huh)
flee, i’m finna make a movie, watch me whip on two cameras (whip, whip)
have to flip the weight, my savage just ate
talkin’ ’bout ones, p*ssy, get you smacked with this eight (get ’em)
fishscale fryin’ while your clique still lyin’ (clique still lyin’)
ain’t no plastic on my ratchet, n*gga, this real iron, uh
me and lord west connect, down in some set with vests
twenty shots in the sky, n*gga, come catch the rest (brr)
big choppas rollin’ in the cherry red bentley (skrrt)
yeah, i’m light on my feet, but i’m heavy with the semi (boom, boom)
rockin’ palm angels, youngins poppin’ long bangers
yeah, you know the vibes, when i pop up, the song changes (facts)
flee delgado, three plates for a verse (uh huh)
you can hate, but i’ll wipe you off the face of the earth, uh (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
bustin’ two fifties, left some resi’ on the counter
phone ringin’ off the hook, the cook be ready in an hour, huh (whip, whip, whip)
i said the phone ringin’ off the hook (whip), be ready in an hour
[interlude: smoke dza]
kushed god, b*tch
the flygod sent the smoke signal and i appeared out the pound
i’m gon’ give you a little gem
you wanna see a n*gga socially distancing
leave a broke n*gga a ten*pack
right, look

[verse 5: smoke dza & westside gunn]
i represent the hustles, the dons, rap purency (woah)
seperate the bosses from bums, pack stealers (right)
i never wanna hear about consignment and stats serious (really)
i don’t take advice from n*ggas that fly spirit (you can’t trust a n*gga that fly spirit)
top tier since my appearance (uh)
they frontin’ on you, tell ’em smd, that’s what the henny said (hahaha)
sayin’ i’m underrated, who made the ratings anyway?
hundred million dollar thinker, you won’t just pay me anything (uh)
forty one millimeters, kit purchase (right)
wifey got some start up money, no big purses (right)
can’t put you in position, it’s a disservice (uh)
and i still get emotional when i hear nip verses (my n*gga)
victory lap as i’m burnin’ this ounce (uh)
run down on you with burners, they sendin’ threats from burner accounts (d*mn)
more work, i done furthered the count
you been hustlin’ all your life and still, you ain’t earn this amount
they like “don’t f*ck up the price, dza” (ha)
doggy, your method ain’t workin’, throw your hustle in rice, n*gga
night night, n*ggas (brr)

[verse 6: westside gunn]
ayo, the k shooter (doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
it’ll spray in your face like [?] (doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
i break the big eight on the forty settin’ plate, i keep a b*tch like luna vachon
take ’em to the country, triple my bomb
triple h with the sledgehammer (ah)
meet me with three shooters at the rec, that’s fed grammar (woo)
two books got me a veggie [?]
locked down at ten, i got the microwave from 9:50, don’t touch my sh*t (ah)
cut the bottom of the mop bucket, don’t get none to no
i told him he can get in with an onion
he was frontin’ like he had one, that’s why them latin kings stabbed him already
he had the joint on him, ain’t shot nothin’
law library bl**dy, co time to slip those
somethin’ with a fat ass, i been coulda f*cked her, who last digits 0*5*5?
children hospital n*ggas, every time we wake up, somebody gon’ die (somebody gon’ die)

[outro: westside gunn]
ayo, remember t*dot, n*gga
we used to cut the bottom of the motherf*ckin’ mop buckets, n*gga
put six rices and motherf*ckin’ eight soups in that sh*t
mrs. dash and goya
i don’t know what the f*ck, i don’t know what all the seasonings you had
but n*gga, when you dumped the rice out, n*gga, the bottom of that sh*t was burgundy, n*gga
we don’t f*ckin’ play around
i want ten green, all that sh*t
0*5*5, n*gga
free sly, he 0*19 though
free dc black
ah
griselda by fashion rebels

- westside gunn

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