WESTSIDE

(Statik Selektah)
Ayo, fuck these niggas, Lord
Ayo, I don't give a fuck about none of these niggas

Ayo, I'm nothing less than impeccable
Hanging out the caramel king, I let the Desert blow
My VLONE, Ricky Kilos
Coaching my shooters like Rick Pitino, neck lit up like Reno (brrt)
Seven days, ten bodies, that's a slow week
I don't wanna talk unless it's whole keys
Over scales I prayed, weighing a flake
Bought three phones this year, nigga, I'm straight (skrrt)
Courtside, Timberlake's on, across from Drake
Still a new nigga but I'm one of the greats
I motivate niggas who's started wars, please get off of my dick
Jackboys' eyes all on my wrist
I'd rather catch a body than you taking my shit (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
Factual, live from the murder capital, king of an actual
Don't give a fuck, nigga, my time, they vaginal
This for my day one niggas eating mackerel
This for my niggas getting mail everyday
My niggas still dropping bodies, still heavy with yay
My main niggas been dead, been fucked up since
So I'ma get up on this Statik and talk all of my shit

I'm out to get it, it's a stick-up
All these motherfuckers been patiently waiting
I'm out to get it, Westside been had it locked, bitch
I'm out to get it, you feel something sweet, go get your heat and your peeps
And find your body parts on the street
Nigga, Westside

Ayo, FLYGOD classic, Glock on me plastic
Last nigga that tried to rob me turned to ashes
Black Waverunners, gator straps on the suede jumpers
Pina colada i8, from yay bumper
Audemars, Lord, fuck the time, my wrist a nigga house
Why Bacon man had to kill 'em, I had to figure out
I guess jealousy prevails
That's why I keep my third eye open on the scale
Why the nigga chain so big? Your neck frail
Used to lay up on the cot, reading wifey mail
I can tell, the hate getting stronger and stronger
You used to fuck with me, now my bread getting longer
Tryna compare me to the niggas I birthed
They only selling vinyls, nigga, check out my worth
Be you, I'd rather jump off a bridge first
Carry a man? I'd rather carry my kids first

I'm out to get it, it's a stick-up
All these motherfuckers been patiently waiting
I'm out to get it, Westside been had it locked, bitch
I'm out to get it, you feel something sweet, go get your heat and your peeps
And find your body parts on the street
Nigga, Westside

Nigga, Westside



Credits
Writer(s): James Moore, Terrance Jermaine Quaites, Kurt Walker, Robert Arthur Ford, Russell Simmons, Michael Mosley, Joseph Leslie Sample, Lawrence Smith, Ricardo Thomas, Femi Ojetunde
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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