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Correct Brossface Brippler Lyrics
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Westside Gunn
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Correct Brossface Brippler
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[Intro: ? & Westside Gunn] It doesn't stop for him Walks on Grr, ayo 'Cause he don't want you to know that you can walk on the water Well, I'ma tell you right now Grr [Verse 1: Westside Gunn] Ayo, rocking Calabasas out in Calabasas Tuck the MAC in, Off-White fatigue with the army patches Allah save 'em, suede sweatsuit, Palm Angels Star spangled, Draco blew his head off from all angles Alchemist cool, hoodies bool, sipping Veuve My lil nigga dropped out the first day of school Dropped tears when I wrote my celly, Louis slides Doctor Romanelli hold the Desi, switch the bust to the gold Presi Who that nigga usually shoulder laying on? Ten thousand dollar sofas, plug loafers made from cobra Handle rock like Villanova, gave him cold shoulders But the neck colder for them TEC toter Get the Lex chauffeur, yo (skr) I dare one of y'all to step on the Waverunners Plain summer, hit the west coast, his brains in the luggage Make you suffer, but you love it (ah) Make you suffer, but you love it (Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom) Wayne bucking, chain tucking 'fore it's took You want a yard but you shook My nigga went to trial and got cooked He should've looked both ways, I got rich off of cocaine Yours never came back, what a shame [Verse 2: Benny] Yo, ay, look, my dog'll slit your throat for a brick of coke He walked in the credit union, then he slipped a note A new Ferrari, ticket price, that's what my kitchen grossed Illegal business, my scale off balance, and my blender broke Griselda on another run, and that's major facts And y'all put guns in hands of niggas you know ain't gon' clap I got the .38 on strap wearing Raiders black We switch pistols, did missions, then traded back Born in the era, in the '80s with the smokers Hit the corner and they cop with a baby in the stroller Saw my family on drugs, that's what made me whip the soda If I don't answer for the plug, that's gon' make him miss his quota Uh huh, it's crazy, we came up from doing all this evil Sold dope with so much cut that it clogged they needles And being real, for this long, gon' be hard to equal This for the hustlers who got on and fed all they people My niggas stand up, my Glock shoot straight Crime do pay, these Nike boxes not for shoe space Y'all got due dates, for one charge, did time in two states I put pictures of my kids up, applying toothpaste, uh This gon' be a real heartbreaker, and I stand by it Can flying, blowing at your head like a hair dryer East side nigga, my whole hood full of Scarfaces Guns in guitar cases, blood on a long apron [Verse 3: Busta Rhymes] I cut coke like I'm chopping beats, they call me Mr. Walt, bae Master, the chef, I'm cooking coke, they call me Salt Bae Bitches'll bag my crack while I fuck 'em in a short stay Niggas'll brag 'bout flipping coke while I somersault the yay "Your coke good, but you'se a worker" is what you're supposed to say At a hookah lounge with a waitress serving coke, now sniff it off the tray While I celebrate a birth this evening, pop the bottle cork and spray Pipe your bitch 'til she sleeping, so my bread, you'll be forced to pay Cocked, now I'm letting off the K, developer Molding and shaping the predator Better off the prey despite how kneeling they often pray It's like I'm still bagging crack with Fredrico Blade accidentally split your finger Blood mixed up all in the perico, bendito Sorry for all of you niggas that became victims while we count your bread over mojitos Fabulous imported fabrics even when I'm in my street clothes This motherfucker distribute butter Like I'm spreading it on wheat toast So much bread the money bag swell up, we getting it in each loaf [Outro] Because he don't want you to know that you can walk on the water Well, I'ma tell you right now
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