Westside Gunn, Peezy - Freddy Js lyrics

HOLIDAY SEASON
Yo, Nineteen in the F9 one in the head
Sleep good every night, all them niggas is dead
You know who it is, DJ Holiday
As I sip my Pino Grigio on you broke ass niggas
I was just wondering did you miss me?

Yo, nineteen in the FN one in the head
Sleep good every night, all them niggas is dead
"Can't nobody fuck with me", nigga I said
Hellcat red and the Maybach red
New rover red and the G wagon red
Few hit his dreads, hit his chest, hit his legs
Came to fuck your bitch on the jet, I'm a player
Virgil gave me this, I ain't even gon' wear it
Switches make these dirty muh'fuckas get to sprayin'
Niggas crawling under cars, seen a couple niggas prayin'
Still got them shits duck taped, I'm the man (I'm the man)
I could change your life with thirty grand
All these diamonds on me, they don't even understand
I'm a eastside nigga, Freddy J with the pan (Whip)
Seen him on Chippewa, shit hit the fan
Then I sped off in a lamb with Big
Same niggas hating, they was fans, they was fans
Hit every house on his block, I ain't playing
(Bop, bop, bop, bop, bop)
I'm just saying, do you hear that? You know it's some real street shit going on.
Westside Gunn! Ayo Peezy, get 'em!

Ghetto Boyz, we with that gangsta shit
Pull up spank a bitch
Might just slime you out, need a handkerchief
Come when you least expect it, you gotta be thinkin' quick
I'm out here chasing my dreams
I came a long way, I was chasing fiends
You and me in a different league, my pants is Katie's Chrome Heart jeans (Fuckboy)
Might see me out shopping in Paris, I'm buying this shit and might not even wear it
Too much Rick Owens, don't know what to wear
I'm not wearing Amiri, got too many pairs
The room I'm in is a thousand a night
Gotta call security to get upstairs
Told my ho if you fuck me tonight, I'm taking you shopping and pay for your hair
If I ever send niggas to get you, they going up top, they ain't grazing your lid
When snatched me off the plane I told him let's do it, I'm sleepy as hell
Know some niggas who sick that I'm winning you know and it's fuck 'em, I tell 'em get well
My crib so muh'fucking big, I made the wrong turn and get lost upstairs
They ever get wind 'bout shit that we did, we getting the chair
I put out the word, ain't nobody spared
He blow off your head, he cut off his dreads
I come from nothing to something, I hold my wrist in the air
I'm celebrating, call that ghetto elevation
I got rich, no education nigga

Catch my nigga in the UK, Dolce & Gabbana robe and shit
Might be with yo bitch
Holiday season, Westside Gunn
Classic