The Old Groove

[Verse 1: Westside Gunn] Ayo, where I'm from, these nigga shoot bitches and kids (Brr, boom, boom, boom, boom) Megabus upstairs, I had it taped to my ribs (Ah) Stupid motherfucker ain't find a brick in the fridge Only got 10K, fuck that, we goin' back, Lord (Man, fuck that, man, we goin' back, I told you the fuckin' brick was in the fridge, yo) 10K, fuck that, we goin' back, Lord (Westside baby need a Fendi stroller) Pineapple Urus, cocaine purest (Ah) Trench on, shit only came out in Europe (Ah) My shooter on syrup (Grr) Kicks I got on, you never heard of (Uh-uh) My Puerto Rican bitch from La Perla Rub the coke on my gums, that shit was magnifique (Ah) Hugged the plug, told him same time next week Jewelry fresh, the bitches all on my neck (Ah) In the Guggenheim, I had the fold-up TEC (Grr) Fendi headband, I didn't break a sweat (Uh-uh) Same nigga had Vicky eatin' out LaVette (Woo) There's Genovese all over (Ah) Wallabees cobra, graveyard shift Motorolas (Brr) Brick after brick after brick, Lord, game over (Ah) Ike just came home for a second time (Second time) Could've fucked your bitch, I told her never mind (Told her never mind) My team vicious, walk, talk, eat different (Ah) Got a whole brick, I had to remix it (Remix) Shit look like Jermaine Dupri whipped it (Whip) Talk Caesar, seasick, them bullets keep hittin' (Grr) Toss the F&N like a flea-flicker (Boom, boom, boom, boom) [Verse 2: Conway the Machine] Preach, nigga, they gettin' money while we richer Key flippers, Amiri jeans, Louis V slippers Out of town OG shippers to the weed pitchers You don't ever squeeze your blicker and that's where we differ (We ain't the same, niggas) I don't hesitate to bust my chrome Bar for bar, can't no nigga touch my zone Niggas know what the fuck I'm on Playin' spades in the county and niggas know not to touch my phone, yeah (Don't touch my phone) My plug a giant in New York, he got them things in (Ah) Send me thirteen to Cleveland, like the G-men (Hahaha) Griselda the championship team, we got the rings in (Yeah) Mad as fuck, my shooter got deported back to Kingston (It's fucked up) Your pockets not deep enough, do not beef with us How can we be touched? You niggas don't got reach enough You not street enough, I will come through your block and I street sweep it up (Brr) Griselda, you niggas cannot eat with us, yeah That's something that I cannot preach enough (Yeah) 40 on me, homie, I keep it tucked (Hah) I'ma keep it a buck (Yeah) If you a fuck nigga, do not speak to us We got Flee with us Thirty shot Glocks'll heat shit up (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) Machine [Verse 3: Benny the Butcher] Mind your business, nigga, tuck your paper (Tuck that) When it's on, my shooter teflon a couple layers Every day I put on gold like a fuckin' Laker (Fuckin' Laker) Out west pushin' them foreign shits up LaBrea (Skrrt) You know the outcome when your pedigree is Martin, Malcolm Don't 'preciate you, and when you dead, they study all your albums I was young and sonnin' them niggas that you call a thousand (Them niggas?) I was hustlin', frontin' them old niggas all them ounces (Where my money at?) Quarter brick under my mattress and my father found it (True story) Wanted me out, and all I did is make him call it down here (Come get this) I just put my dick in her mouth, you bought that ho Louboutins (Fuck you doin'?) I caught a bomb in the A, but don't play for the Falcons (Nah) Ain't no linkin' back with niggas I had a fallin' out with (Fuck 'em) They only start that shit with you so they can talk about it (Talk about it) It's cool, and we can take it far as y'all allow it (What's poppin'?) I spin through, your Gucci hoodie gon' have chalk around it (Brr) Yeah, nah, I can't forget them traps that I had hostage (Had hostage) Walkin' 'round with your re-up in my back pocket (Hahahaha) I use your baby mama for a stash option I couldn't trust that bitch, so she was my last option Uh, every time we drop, we gave hell to niggas (Gave hell to niggas) So they top five got all three Griselda members Dope spot, a bunch of empty shells was in it How I make that brick jump? I had to put my elbow in it Let's go [Interlude: Novel] I ain't playin' no games (Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh) I said this is, my nigga, this is my life, oh, shit (Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh) I said listen, listen (Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh) [Verse 4: Novel] Never had a jump shot, but had a cold pen Papa was an old pimp that used to smoke Slims, uh I ain't the one for the tusslin' Quick to tell a bitch nigga, "Do something, then" Brown Timbs with the Polo fleece, uh Youngins pushin' packs, control those streets And po-po'll flash the lights tryna find these niggas Them cocaine '80s turned me into a grimy nigga, ooh It's all about the yams Mama always told me, "Pay your Uncle Sam" Single mother, always had us on the lam Livin' in them shelters, spaghetti and hot Spam, goddamn Pottstown, catch the bus to Camden On my way to Sunday service with my niggas lampin' Mrs. Harris used to make a mean catfish We was teens, used to watch the fiends backflip Talkin' to themselves, sellin' they love That crack rock is a hell of a drug In the stash spot, never sell out your plug Anyone can get shot and killed, so I had to get out for real [Outro: Novel] 'Cause I'm in another zone You know the ghetto's home You know the ghetto's home You know the ghetto's home I'm in another zone You know the ghetto's home You know the ghetto's home You know the ghetto's home 'Cause I'm in another zone You know the ghetto's home You know the ghetto's home You know the ghetto's home I'm in another zone You know the ghetto's home You know the ghetto's home You know the ghetto's home