Westside Gunn, Keisha Plum - Party wit Pop Smoke lyrics

Ayo, you couldn't keep score
Patek Phillipe wars (Ah)
My niggas stare at Rugers
Gucci bit off Iceberg shit
I still copped the Mickey
Pissy elevators, hand in hand, I
Wore Issey, Lord, forgive me
Fashion Week, I gave 'em headstarts
Ten Mississippi  (Brr, brr, brr)
Submachine guns, somebody fucked him
Brains hangin' off the frame
Blood on the Salvator Mundi, we rock cocaine
(Ah) tie-dye Dior floss
Stickin' niggas up at Christie's
Eugene Delacroixs for half price
Leather strings and Rickys
Ain't no eye for eye, you take an eye
We take your whole head
(Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
Shoppin' sprees at Galeries Lafayette
Come here let's hold hands
Baggin' at the Mandarin, they
Can't take the drip, balenciaga mannequin
Pots dancin' with the grams of fish
Whip game scandalous (Ah)

My heart got a thousand shadows on it
His brain had a lead hollow in it
Bloodbaths under the moonlight
Spill his guts when the time is right
Valentino for his favorite whore
Homicidal couture
Vintage Mizrahi in the streets of Paris
Violence lingers inside me
Extortion fills my bon appetit hogtie him
Make him watch a nigga nut in his wife
He started to cry i kissed his cheek
Then drove the icepick in his eye
And one call will have a girl
Scout on your granddaddy's porch
Cause of death is heart attack
On the coroner's report if he got a felony
It's guaranteed to excite me
Gun and drug charges give me butterflies
Evil as Satan, but I see God all in his eyes

Ayo, it's Westside Pootie
And my Lamborghini got a backseat
And y'all drive rentals
In other words, get your weight up
Y'all still broke
Oh yeah, and stop copyin' off my daddy, too
It's Griselda griselda