Mr. Fuji

[Intro: Westside Gunn]

Weighing 264 pounds, The Samurai Warrior, Mr. Fuji!

FUKK

Ayo, fuck these niggas, yo

Fuck 'em!

My fuckin' voice going out screaming on these niggas

I'm a fuckin' legend

Get the fuck outta here, yo

[Verse 1: Westside Gunn]

Ayo, I heard they pray to FLYGOD, you better be

Hit the brick with the pedigree

Flyer than me, Lord, you could never be

I got some niggas, shoot your kids, then get up for an extra key (Brrrr)

No heart niggas

CDG hearts on the shark head, pick yo' coffin niggas

I popped up like The Undertaker (Boom boom boom boom boom)

Six on the stove another brick, watch the crystals when it break up

Money machines running like Team Jamaica

Crept in the cell on the wake-up, left a nigga poked, on the bottom bunk bed

Hit another brick with the rock bottom, nigga

Went out for lunch

Table-cloth Fendi, nigga

I fuck around and hit any nigga (Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom...!)

I'm Jig, not Jigga, nigga

That's Conway, I'm more like Biggs, nigga

Listening to Big, nigga (Uh)

Weighing up some big, nigga

My nigga did 10

He came home looking like Sid Vicious

Thirty-two shots'll flip ya (Doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot...)

Flip your baby mama

Flip your grandmama

My nigga did five

Came home looking like Ahmed Johnson

What up, my nigga?

[Verse 2: Conway the Machine]

Uh, Bossanova pies with the extra skirt (Easy)

Bought some soda for my guy so he can stretch the work

I bet it hurt for niggas to see me bop, know what they said at first?

"Con, look at your face, you not marketable, it'll never work" (Uh?)

Now tees with my face on it, top-selling shirts

I've got murals in different countries, boy, watch how a legend work (Haah)

Kilo necklace on my shirt, Smith and Wesson work

Youngun' shooting on one leg, he call his weapon Dirk (Hahahaha!)

Shooters lurk for you, black van with the Hecklers in it (Drrr)

Have a nigga wacked before my breakfast finished (Cap)

That bitch kids at school, we in the kitchen cheffin' in it

Cook smoke, I let him keep the pot with all the extras in it (Go ahead, [?])

It's getting spooky for these rappers, right? (They scared, nigga)

'Cause they already know that we don't rap alike

They know they ain't half as nice, I ain't even have to write

I feel like Pun, no wonder them niggas living this afterlife

Niagara Cafe, I had the rice with the pollo (Uhuh)

Quarter brick of the white go for ocho (Woo)

Had to throw the ice in the ro ro

Buffalo nigga with a Sean Price mixed with Hov flow (Hahahaha)

Yeah, Griselda, bitch, hmm

Uh, Daringer, this shit is fuckin' bananas, nigga, hehe, yeah

It's gettin' spooky for these niggas, man

Look at them, they scared, uhhh

[Verse 3: Smoke DZA]

Riiight, uh, they throwing salt, Mr. Fuji, huh

They must want a nigga flip it, make a movie, huh

It's pimp or die, you know these hoes out here choosing us (Facts)

You wanna take pictures with rappers, male groupie, huh

All my niggas hit the streets, fuck going check to check

You got no money in your pockets, yet you fresh to death (Irony)

Kushed God, bitch, the best of best

Got the work bustin' through your city like the Lex Express (Uhuh)

He tryna get a plate on the arm

The moment he started rubbing me wrong (Ohoh)

I told him you die in droubt if you wait for the storm

In other words, I payed for his bond, right (Uh)

No damn favors, these grams like Van Vader (Uh)

Landscaping the game, fam, you can't save it (Uhuh)

Natural heel, but a fan favorite

Here to fuck up the fun, they ain't fucking with son