[Intro: Westside Gunn]
That's why, I swear, man
We rockin' the name Griselda damn near everyday
Ain't no point of rockin' no other brand
'Cause our shit flyer than their shit anyway
Qué poco queda
Qué poco queda
Qué poco queda (Griselda)
Qué poco que— (By Fashion Rebels)
[Verse 1: Westside Gunn]
On the road to the riches
Tri-colored Benzes with interest
Balmain moto, eatin' Sotto Sotto
Cuban links, bolo enter your head, Polo for dolo
Gunshots Manolo, poppin' PJ when I show though
Coke prices so-so, forty for a whole dough
Adobo in the microwave, fried rice nice
The greens was creased, Jesus piece waves spinnin'
Seem like the lames wouldn't knock no more, Glock in jaw
Dome shot a nigga knock it off, top his Porsche (Skrr)
Kick in your door, son's special, we'll wet you
All red Ralph lookin' like the Devil
We fly niggas, tell Donna, yo, we got her
Prada rockers, garlic butter on the chops and lobsters
Ran hammers like Barry Sanders
You know the grammar glammer, hid the nine in the hamper
(Doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot)
[Interlude: Conway the Machine]
Qué poco queda (Yeah)
Qué poco queda
Qué poco queda (It's all real, nigga, look)
Qué poco que—
[Verse 2: Conway the Machine]
All I need is a gun and a key
A kush trap where I can see brick money from Ps
I don't fuck with these rap niggas, now they gunnin' for me
You wouldn't even be familiar if it wasn't for me, ha
You can't even fuck with the shit I don't write
I got, hit in the head, I'm blickin' everything on sight
That's on God, nigga, I ain't finna fight
I'ma, put out your lights and I ain't even have to hit you twice
Same clip, I ain't reload
Niggas use the sack to justify not livin' by the G code, uh
Regardless of how much bread in your stash
That won't stop a junkie from findin' your head in the trash
I'll send a shooter to your residence fast
Wavin' the Wesson with the vest and a mask
Like, "Where the rest of the cash?"
Look, Reject back from Hell, hit the wax, inhale
Clap a shell, Griselda jack you with the Taxi 12's
Conway
[Outro: ChineGun Black]
Qué poco queda
Qué poco queda
Qué poco queda (Griselda)
Qué poco que—
Hey fam, I'm not saying I'm the king of New York, king of the South
I'm the king when it comes to puttin', guns in your mouth
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