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griselda records – dr. bird’s lyrics

[intro: westside gunn]
ah, ayo
brr, brr

[verse 1: westside gunn]
ayo, i’m in salvatore makin’ salaat, bentayga in three flavors
shoot the n-gga, know we’ll speak later (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
up the whitney, got the mac with me
hid behind the warhol, dip to bergdorf, shot up the whole store (brr)
cherry ’57, in the ‘bach learnin’ lessons (skrrt)
crack ain’t dry, and it be ready in a second (ah)
forty chains on, halo, i’m a god, n-gga
fear of god jogger, rock a n-gga, i don’t even jog
hangin’ out the wagen sunroof, pickin’ n-ggas off (brr)
the mille with the chill bezel (ah)
all my foreigns red, it make me feel special
banana peel ak, i’m lookin’ real extra (doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
with the top keys, the money green teslas (skrrt)
told virgil, write “brick” on my brick (write “brick” on my brick”)
write “brick” on my brick”
told virgil, write “brick” on my brick
ayo, amiris filled with cash, i’m in the fashion district (ah)
shoot your momma houses for a half a bicken (doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
all my n-ggas dealin’, all my n-ggas k!llin’ (brr)
the n-ggas tried to test me, now the n-gga’s missin’ (ah)
meal quarters, i’m still awesome
water whip c0ke, i still voss, rosé out the faucet
ah, tell virgil, write “brick” on my brick

[verse 2: conway the machine]
look, lil’ brodie let off his .30, he ain’t even flinch (yeah)
caught the body, dipped to the a, n0body seen him since (he got low)
560 benz and i ain’t need the tints (vroom)
my weakest scent cost more than your momma need for rent (hahaha)
that’s just one zip, the drum rip, leave you rinsed (rrah)
hide the body for a week and it’s gon’ leave a stench (smell that?)
rappers come to my city, they gon’ need consent (you gon’ need a p-ss, n-gga)
’cause we already know you p-ssy n-gga, we convinced (hah)
i told virgil, write “brick” on my brick (hah)
the nicest with this sh-t, ain’t write this, i just spit (woo)
white b-tch on my d-ck, this ice drip on my fist
no shoe deal, but look at all this nike sh-t that i get (hahaha)
on dope street, it’s white sh-t that i pitch
two in the morning, on the corner, night shift with my bl!ck (i got it all)
no soda in this off-white sh-t that i whip (hah)
i’m rich, put all this off-white sh-t on my b-tch (haha)
so if it’s smoke, we ain’t even askin’ (uh huh)
we just pullin’ up and somebody gon’ see a casket (boom boom boom)
hall n nash and benny like james worthy, kareem, and magic (yeah)
every time griselda drop, this sh-t gon’ be a cl-ssic (you know what’s up)

[verse 3: benny the butcher]
yo, i gave cocaine to users, and okays to shooters (i did)
i’m c-cky, vintage versace with the stone face medusas
sopranos, and margianos, we got gold-plated rugers
this pistol’ll backflip you and blow your whole frame to puro (brr)
got all eyes on us, can we chill? eatin’ with snakes’ll probably get him k!lled
’cause trust me, every family got a henry hill (what up?)
and every man don’t got a benny sk!ll (nah)
when you this dope, it take least 50 mil just to sit me still (ah)
light ten on my whip, white b-tch on my d-ck
right wrist when i whip, that white brick on my brick
runway margiela, that type sh-t on my b-tch
b-tterflys and spikes, that type sh-t on my kicks
these rappers wanna be trendy, their hoes wanna be friendly (nah)
but never, she wear forever 21 like it’s fendi
until that b-tch is givenchy, she pr-nounce that sh-t as “givinchy”
she wanna f-ck me and run through all my accounts ’til they empty
what would chinegun do? i’m still thinkin’ militant
old paraphanelia layin’ around, i got rid of it (that’s out of here)
then settled all my differences (i did)
i really had a chicken with a tree stamp like i stepped on it with a timberland
the butcher, n-gga (ah)

- griselda records lyrics

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