Westside Gunn, Flee Lord, Heem B$F, Chase Fetti - Celine Dion lyrics

Fuck (Brr) ayo (Brr)
Ayo

The Black Rambo, you know the handle (Brr)
Bali' sandals
The Buffalo Kids and Black Sopranos (Ah)
Got the brick dismantled
The cherry Land Rove' (Skrrt)
We used to rock Pebble Beach
And then we came home (Ah)
Hit the back of his head, now his brains gone
(Boom boom boom boom boom)
See me when you wake up, pop the cells
I'm laid up we went to the Porsche lot
He copped the same one (Skrrt, they know)
If you shine, we both shine
We used the samе guns (Boom, boom, boom)

This that 7-1-murder shit
My niggas sell dope and murdеr shit (Brr)
Hundred thirty to life and he


Ain't tell 'em shit (Shh)
Felon shit
We all grew up on that ghetto shit
(On that ghetto shit)
Robbin' niggas for fun and now my bezel lit
We ghetto rich
Bang the forty 'til the metal stick
(Fah, fah, fah) my nigga pray to the devil
He on some rebel shit tat his face
Never blink when the ratchet shake
(Never did)
Have a fiend do him dirty for a half a eight
Turn his face
Got a lawyer that'll burn the case
Get a extra headshot
That's just for turnin' state we suicidal
Lost soldiers in the beef with rivals
Told my mama that I love her
Loadin' up my rifle we the idol
(Motherfucker) , you'll die today
I tell 'em snipe you (Brr)
Who the youngest OG? I'ma take that title
(That's me, nigga) jordan, Michael
Six ring when the pound strikin'
(Fah, fah, fah, fah, fah)
Let the first one scream
He thought he saw lightning
Frr, they know, yeah

Y'all know me big BSF, nigga
Gunn, good lookin', nigga same nigga, look

I turn fifty into eighty if you whip it good
(That's a fact)
Chop it up, then I'm in your hood
(I'm in your hood) like the engineers
I serve your bitch while she with the kids
(Haha)
I'm into flips like a gymnast is (Like)
You ain't Mr big (Nah)
You ain't never bust a head over price
(Pussy nigga)
You ain't never stuffed dope in
A bowl of rice (Stop lyin')
You got knocked and started
Singin' like Hova's wife (Pussy)
This street shit is like a roll of dice
Nigga
And I'm here for the head crack (Uh, huh)
Over a little cheese, get your head tapped
Nigga (Brr) , I can't stand rats (Nah)
And these shells is like pesticides on 'em
(Bah bah bah)
I'm pushin' weight tryna exercise on 'em
These bitches think you a chicken box (Why)
'Cause they got some breast
And thighs on 'em (Fuck outta here)
I just ran out of work
Who got some extra pies on 'em?
(Who got some work?)
And that's a real question
You niggas still bluffin' (Uh, huh)
So I got them pills jumpin'
(Wait) , cleats on, I'm field runnin'
You ain't ever killed nothin'
Go on drills, nothin', nigga
I up the steel, I'm like Phil Drummond (Brr)

I wanna bring out the guy
That was the challenger
In that particular instance we
Are talking about fLYGOD
Who did indeed make a valiant effort to
Take the title away from Nick Bockwinkel
But first of all let say I'm
Glad to see you're back
Especially after seeing your front
Ha ha haha let me ask you one other thing
Did you hear that the court just
Made a ruling that they're
Gonna have to make the Lone
Ranger take his mask off?
They ever see you they're
Gonna make a ruling
Where you have to wear a mask
Do you realize that?
Yeah it's a rare form day I hear it, okay
That's right baby when I beat
The world heavyweight champion
I am in rare form and I guess
You saw it right there didn't yah
Yeah I saw what could be
Interpreted I'm certainly by
You as a win over the champion, he still
He still rung the bell
Could be interpreted? He still rung the bell
It was a one two three
That's right took me a couple of
Minutes longer than I anticipated but what
What can you expect? I was fighting
Two world champions that night

Ayo, I'm rockin' skates
Eatin' thousand dollar plates (Ah)
Sold dope for fifteen years straight
I need a break
More money on the way (More money on the way)
More money on the way
Ayo, I'm rockin' skates
Eatin' thousand dollar plates (Ah)
Sold dope for fifteen years straight
I need a break
More money on the way (More money on the way)
More money on the way (Lord, Lord)

From the change jar, hoppin'
Out that foreign, slide to Saks and Fifth
(Skrrt) skippin' out that bitch with
Twenty racks of shit (yeah)
Uh, Off Whites on, Dior gone
Swam on hip, keep belovey feelin' strong
(Brr, brr, brr)
Prayin' for my sins, chop it up with FLYGOD
(Chop it up with FLYGOD)
Ms is rollin' in, I ain't gotta sell hard
(I ain't' gotta sell hard)
Exes lookin' sick
But I'm spinnin' in the Tesla (Skrrt)
The thirty-eight is mean
But got that thirty on the heckler (Brr)
You can catch me up in Neiman's
I be gettin' some help (Gettin' some help)
When I seen you in that bitch
You was coppin' a belt (Fuck outta here)
You wasn't on my side when
The vision was felt (Fuck outta here)
Belovey, boy
You up some water so them pigeons can melt
(Whip, whip) sold 'caine for nine years
We don't play around here (Nope)
Tried to run off with that crack key
Now he stay around chairs (Get that nigga)
Got a crowd
But these motherfuckers yellin' out dimes
(Dimes) a hundred grams
But I only sell seven at a time

Ayo, I'm rockin' skates
Eatin' thousand dollar plates
Sold dope for fifteen years straight
I need a break
More money on the way (More money on the way)
More money on the way
Ayo, I'm rockin' skates
Eatin' thousand dollar plates
Sold dope for fifteen years straight
I need a break
More money on the way (More money on the way)
More money on the way