Westside Gunn, eLZhi - The Steiners lyrics

Griselda by Fashion Rebels

El don't hold punches
This that flying fists of fury
You wish I had no leg to stand
On with no podiatrist to cure me
My life was like Eggs Benedict
Crème brûlée it's lamb today
Tomorrow's lobster macaroni
Clam souffle and those truly wack
Who swear they got the crown
Get their rubies jacked
My dogs'll smack you up like a Scooby Snack
He face major or minimum slaughter
I wouldn't hold my breath swimming in water
Wanna stay winning more than women
Wants a feminine daughter
Or men who wants a masculine son
To teach how to shoot baskets
And guns for fun
You in the presence of a Jedi
Gypsy read my palm and said
I'd make it past the age that most
Thought that I'd be dead by
That's one year shy of the GOAT
Born out in Bedstuy
And years after these artists overdosing
Off a med high
Ruined your dance, spoil your whole night
What's in my loose leaf
Is hitting hard like it was rolled tight
Something you shouldn't take light
Different from what the fake write
Similar to a snake bite
You rather me slow up and
See my brake lights, then make flights
From Detroit to Buffalo, puffing 'dro
You in bad shape like my toughest fro
I'm well rounded like David Ruffin's fro
Cuffing your main squeeze before
My plane leave i'm so cold
She slurp me up and catch a brain freeze
Then I stroke and smack it
In a smokin' jacket
Oakland macking on some Coke and Yak shit

Boom boom boom boom boom
Ayo, 45 shells popping out
Straight drilling shit
Lagerfield rocking head to toe
In the lemon six
PJ spilling, still a fish in the Fisker (skr)
Dragged it through SoHo
Right in front of Kith (boom boom boom)
Reminiscing in my cell
I used to have the block clicking
Duffle bag full of hollow
Points was the mission (ah)
Ran up on him at his momma's house
Gave him the business
(boom boom boom boom boom)
He tried to give me 30
Counterfeit for a chicken
No, no, no, no, three quarters Balenciagas
These never dropping, don't even bother
Tied gloves on the chopper
Stone Island fishing then jump off brick
What I call a thousand dollar lineups
Chill, I done sold bricks for real
I took a pay cut when I signed my deal
This for the culture
You wouldn't understand my sculpture
(uh uh) this feeling is torture, I'm ultra
Rhyming well, Blientele
Before I rat, I'd rather fry in Hell
What you know about laundry
Bags filled with mail
20 stamps'll make you a book
You never ran the phone, you niggas was shook
You never ran the phone, you niggas was shook