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westside gunn – lord (fnic) كلمات اغاني

[verse]
ayo
a rolls royce made a n_gga look
much bigger than life, big toopens on, jesus flooded with ice
pachino blow, gettin’ n_ggas stuck
i knowin’ n_ggas doin’ life in a box
and not giving a f_ck, word up
drug connected, invested, crazy math
movin’ like escobar, coke pacho
it’s this n_gga they call gunn
flyest n_gga in charge, yo, cash rules
hamdullah
baggin’ addy, shootin’ n_ggas outta big navi’s
f_ck it, run up on ’em, quick stab ’em
we gotta handle the score
duffle bags with gucci emblems
for imputin’ pure, yo son, we k!llin’ n_ggas
carryunloaded handguns, ’cause i don’t trust sh_t
flyer than b_tches on saks 5th, duh
dolce wardrobe, we pose with a 50 cal’ on me
it’s the n_gga, jugged drug dealer that’ll k!ll ya
fly n_gga rockin’ fatigue, money machines, and triple beams
at 16, i’m on the run for more robbery
the state lovin’ n_ggas like me
gettin’ cream up in junior high
changed my lights up, gunn was the flyest n_gga in class
math wasn’t sh_t, learned that from older n_ggas on the ave
word on my life, uncle baker wasn’t sh_t when he was alive
walkin’ the strip with the .9
choppin’ eights up at domes
and that’s how i live
some n_ggas can’t respect it
rock up a gatherd necklace, pushin’ the es 300 lexus
brothers [?] the teacher lessons
chiefin’ up reefer, lettin’ all the gods relate the message
the flyest n_ggas ever
tote guns wherever
rockin’ cuban links and armani leathers, but yo
i sold crack on the ave
i got back like “f_ck it”, ’cause next day i was back on the ave
and that’s my word on everything, lord
i sold everything, ’cause growin’ up
all i heard was cash rules everything
but right now i’m tryna lay low
get my mind right
street entertainment takin’ over when the time right
agein’ gettin’ older, then no “i’m not dead”
so i’m stuck in h_ll watchin’ grown men shed tears
’cause where i grew up at
n_ggas’ll stab you in your f_cking back
then no friends live where i live
and that’s a f_cking fact
hard top lex’, rockin’ baguettes
cuban links on, modelin’ guess
probably with tecs
the [?] carryin’ handguns, [?]
runnin’ with real live n_ggas, silencin’ major plans
yo money actin’
hustling cracks up, tucked the macs
and politick, and [?] brought the gats in
beef and broccoli chip twisted
bullets hit his benz, listen
runnin’ with drug dealin’ n_ggas
willin’ vigors
flyish, rockin’ lacoste, ayo
connect sniffin’ coka
million dollar n_ggas sportin’ rovers, yo
big faces, atleast a hundred grand outta briefcases
canary stone thrown in the bracelet
steppin’ out
stress the lex’ out, son
check us and count, a hustler
one that cop grams for a lesser amount
the plan is: get the money and bounce
back to servin’ fiends, two for fifteens, no doubt
i’m out, i’m out

- westside gunn

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