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Correct Easter Gunday 3 Lyrics
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Artists: W
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Westside Gunn
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Correct Easter Gunday 3
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Lyrics:
[Intro: Keisha Plum] Yay, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for my AK and Glock 9, they comfort me Though prepareth the table before me, in the presence of my enemies He has super S on his feet, so he thought he had an S on his chest with that bulletproof vest But we coming for your dome piece Shot to the forehead, give you a third eye Make your kids cry, baby mama asking why All bow down to the god of Fly [Break: Westside Gunn] Grr, ayo Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom Ayo Griselda Brr brr brr By Fashion Rebels [Verse 1: Westside Gunn] Ayo, I don't leave without my pistol on Drive-bys, I'm playing XXXTENTACION Soon as the box hit the skrt, I'ma get him gone Shoot up your mama house, your uncle brains on the lawn Blew your nephew off the tricycle, shots ripple Like the PSI, Lord, you not official On the yard, me and Blue DaVinci, shooters with me Went to the halfway house, I took the Uzi with me Skating over weight on the Palace deck, I'm not impressed Peace to little Sean, peace to Bernadette (P!) GxFR, that's the murder set Everybody got dope, but I serve the best Everybody taking my shit Shoot the 8 three times, I might break my wrist Took 6, came back, now I'm better than ever Amiri jeans, alligator on the sweater, who better? I mean, I guess it's Fahim He still chopping heads off of guillotines, nigga, please Ninja stars in the trees, come on, fam We ain't the same, you ain't never seen a thousand grand You ain't never shot a nigga, no Con Air trips Never been fly, never fucked a bad bitch Lil nigga, I'm rich I heard the Dump Legend shit sound like shit Mask on like Vader, training like al-Qaeda Mach retired, nigga turned to a painter Meanwhile, I'm getting paper Yo, these rap niggas weirdos VVSs on my earlobes Shit, the creator of the sun Niggas tryna fit in, that's a Camouflage Bum [Break: Westside Gunn] Yo, you already fucking know I wasn't even gon' do this shit I had to, though But fuck it, man, shoutout Easter, man I'm just having fun, I wrote this shit in like 5 minutes I don't waste time on these niggas Smoking skittles I'm not gon' even do this shit no more I don't give a fuck if niggas make some shit Talk some shit, tweet some shit I ain't even gon' see it anyway, niggas blocked me But yo, I was just- I just wanted to have some fun, man Let niggas know why I'm who the fuck I am, man Flygod See, like, I still do what I want to I only drink champagne I wear six figures in jewels I got all type of houses I'm 'bout to buy my bitch some titties And like, like, life is fucking beautiful Pootie getting that Gucci That Louis, shoutout to Pootie But, yo, before, Mach was on these shits Shit happens Can I get my painting, Mach? But it's all about Griselda See, this a different kind of life Niggas really put the work in Niggas been in the raids Niggas lost our best niggas Rest in peace Machine Gun Black Niggas been shot, niggas been stabbed Niggas been in that hole Niggas been locked up, 23 and 1 Free Ike, free Sly Niggas been told on Niggas done took them trips I remember one time, niggas had me shackled From- from Buffalo to fucking Youngstown, Ohio Sat there for a week in shackles All the way to PA Shackled, got on Con Air, flew all the way to Oklahoma Left Oklahoma, shackled, had to fly all the way to Atlanta See, y'all niggas don't know that life Where you don't eat the meat, so you share for the motherfucking fruit, nigga Y'know? Get ready for Chris Benoit AKA Supreme Blientele Get ready Classic, the album really called Chris Benoit Also known as Supreme Blientele, nigga Either one It's gonna be the illest shit all year But you know who else got some of the illest shit all year? [Verse 2: Benny] Ah, let's go Ski mask, crooked faces, this rap shit took us places My strap get put in faces, that's word to my butcher apron Around the world, I'm good with gangsters, I got good relations All it took was patience, now I'm on, so they book us places Let me catch you fronting, you just wanna be pop You want the buzz, you want the love, but you don't want to get shot How you don't want what come with it, you just want to be hot To be Griselda, nigga, you gotta stand on one of these blocks I was feeding them, stove on medium, under each pot Rolling reefer up, while I'm speeding off the company lot Aye, look, West told me chill, but I know where the nigga live Like Sopranos, nigga, tie you up, right in that little crib Get the tape, then throw the pillowcase right on your little head We would search the crib for cake, but know you don't get no bread Funeral status, G shit, I could give 'em passes My team like, "what's good with the action", we could give them caskets Look, 6 shooters, 8 heaters, 6 bodies, 8 creatures Play with me, I make you famous quicker than a Drake feature I be rocking Off-White, and I be rocking BAPE sneakers I mix that with Fendi shit like I don't got no taste neither Hopping at the Rattison got me shopping on Madison You talking all that fashion shit but cop it from the Africans That don't start none, it won't be none Y'all know who run the streets, huh? Griselda We gon' see when Tana Talk 3 come Got my hammer in the trap, I watch the camera like a rerun Undercover, caught with scanners, throw your hand up when you see one It's Easter Gunday, I need a runway I let the clip talk, niggas think I'm Rick Ross, I be with gunplay You grind hard, you could reach this one day I learned the game young, and knew that I would teach it some day I'm bool, you know the rules when you play in these streets You smooth, cock the tool, now you playing for keeps Don't pray for us, nigga, make sure you pray for the weak I bump into a bird, nigga, I'ma scrape up his feet I just booked a flight to Cali, I'ma stay for the week My bitch coming, while I work, I let her play on the beach The ways of the streets, I rob just to stay on my feet I'm at niggas, rap niggas see this face and they sleep [Outro: Benny] The Butcher Griselda, nigga You know what it is Hahaha, let's go
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