[Verse: Westside Gunn & Conway the Machine]
Ayo, I had to Vert the Vanquish
Basquiats in the bandos, we tasteless
S.E. Gang, hammer on the waist shit
Leavin' the club wasted, waivin' it in niggas' faces (Huh?)
Louis reekin' out my fuckin' pores (Yeah)
Sweepin' coke off of marble floors
Uh, Medusa head on the buckle shit
I came with the semi-LV's on the luggages, uh (Hahahaha)
Blood bottoms with the spikes on it (Yes!)
Canary choke, par, pink ice on it (You see)
Fresh new MAC on the dresser chillin'
Watchin' Run's House, daydreamin' 'bout Vanessa Simmons (What up, baby?)
Playin' chess on the luggage
Zanottis unzipped match the Lagerfeld bucket (Ha!)
Smell the dope on me at the little homie graduation (Uh-huh)
He caught his first body, told him, "Congratulations"
Rockin' minks at the Broner fight
If the four pound don’t, then the chopper might
How the fuck you 'gon do me harm, nigga? (Never that)
I'm surrounded by shooters, I'm Lebron nigga (Huh?)
Shootin' like Curry nigga (Yeah)
Do you like Flip when Birdie ripped him
Two .45's on me like Jimmy Jump
MAC in the Reagan era, bag in the baby's trunk, uh
Python on the Just Don
Fendi dinner plates with the Gold Bond
Twistin' up the gas in the 'Sace store
Spent so much cash, they gotta lock the door (Ha!)
The SLS coke white
Free Sly Green, they gave my nigga four lifes
This the kind of shit the game miss (Uh-huh)
Hurricane wrist (Uh-huh)
In the kitchen whippin' up a cocaine dish
Stop Bink at the dice game
Catch him in the yard with the knife gang
Niggas ain't fuckin' with my night game
Forty for the Hublot, that was light change (Hahahahahaha)
Couple MACs in my bitch' Birkin (Yeah)
Throw him off the roof now he fly for certain (Hahaha)
Uh-huh, and, bitch, I want all the cash (Cash)
Conway, Westside Gunn—Hall & Nash, nigga
[Outro]
Griselda, by Fashion Rebels
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
