| That big damn Gucci display, my biggest trumps screamin' murder |
| Spiegel cover posters with the burn, I guess farmers stand on a block, |
| biggest Trump you ever seen on us |
| Politic and million dollar lickstickers, Louis Vuitton jumpers on them, Lord, |
| Ben’s waggin' niggas |
| Lord and Teller fly down to Carol Wevers, rockin' dinner plates, |
| Gucci links on them, Fendi Moccasins from 88s |
| Pushin' Lexus GS, yo, Jesus, peace, love, a law issue, Coke stores, |
| a Porsche I score for |
| Glamorous out-of-state matches that we lambish, Chanel sofa, a hundred grand |
| Ryker carrier, sir |
| My empire, designer flyer, tired mire, Macy racking facts for my line-up, |
| pushin' the Aston Martin |
| Rockin' some guest scammers, playin' chess, the best of cream, champagne |
| spiller, illest unseamed, swing like Nasim |
| Marvelous skin, the sharpest of the torture, our body, you’re honest with |
| llamas, Elijah, analyzer |
| Al-Qaeda, the siding, if my knife busts, Neiman Marcus, the heat is sparkin' |
| Reload my conscious, fake niggas get targeted, rockin' generic, Jesus, peace, |
| charge, runnin' with carrots |
| Handle a handgun, stretch lands and hands, Jansport, cut out what harness, |
| got what no teeth said |
| Pullin' coke, makin' my nose bleed, my cold D’s, my A-likes, send a kite over |
| night |
| I’m rollin' dice, hold a fisherman’s knife in case they wanna take my life |
| I rock with flavor, nights uptowns with cherry straps and Carrie Gatsburg, |
| very slacks, that’s in my cracks |
| I’m unstoppable, gonna pop you, layin' on a cot, readin' Qurans, |
| the flyest nigga, till I’m dead and gone, yo |
| Sly Union and I rule this block music, hang out with drug dealers and Glock |
| users |
| Lord, the flyest whole night stuck, hoppin' out of Ben’s trucks with Big Jury |
| on the clay board |
| Sax, Fifth Avenue, Minx on suck, it’s time to get this paper, got my money at |
| the street labor |
| I’m so dope for Connecticut, fuck the white bitch, rockin' some sketchy kicks |
| Pushin' a Lexus 6, takin' the heat to the Mars, pray to Allah |
| Come out, dump at your car, skid on, step to some shit |
| Fucked up my clock, spittin' these thoughts, style is the illest |
| Rhymes is vicious, you not fuckin' with this shit |
| SK’s a murrier, Glock’s you and your bitch lit |
| Every time you think about Gunn, you think of this shit, son |
| Fly nigga rockin', fatigued, distributed crack, I spillin' shit at |
| Militaries issued to get, I fuck with Bravo and Dillon just shat |
| Box cutter and machine, go black, treated it tame, he’s baggy |
| Mosie, then rockin' a dochi linen, Dutchies to roll my spinach |
| All of my gems are squizzin', keepin' a load of biscuit |
| Bright in the wagon for the mistress, Kuji dressin' Asia, my princess |
| Gully is hinchin' big Jews, triple X, no face, we laced, this playin' great |
| Goin' out of state, coppin' the sticks, this is a life of a drug dealer |
| Hundred grand figures, fake niggas when you hit your lip in the villa |
| You know your man sauce in the black tour, set my can doors |
| Fuck up with fam, now they payin' for it, tip willin' fields |
| Holdin' Dillon just willin' to kill, fake Major League niggas ain’t real |
| I rockin' uptowns, keep a clip so I can bust off rounds for a pound |
| Sippin' Henny rounds, I put my semi down, Chanel flavor, mocks rockin' gazelles |
| Too many fake niggas out, I can hardly tell when that’s word |
| And that’s you, nigga, it’s fuckin' Westside Gunn, FNIC |
| You already know Street Entertainment |
| PSEC you too, man, I ain’t forget about your family |