Westside Gunn and Rome Streetz - Big AL
Ayo, son of Malcolm, and mind of MartinA heart of Huey P
Shoot up a cracker eulogy, gun powder on my Louis V
Got questions with no answers like, "Is life just a lucid dream?"
It's harder to do right beside this rappin', I'ma tool with schemes
My dope on the spoon, the stamp on the package was new regime
Put it in the wax paper, wrap it, and its straight to the fiends
Tarot read, you grew the death into magician after this
And different chapter, I draw gun as big as to clap yourself
Lord and master, don't adore the Lord
Free all the trappers (free my niggas)
Got caught with the raw in the door of the Lac truck
Never had much before, my only thoughts was stack up
You either be the one making the punch or shootin' smack up
Can't rely on niggas, done keep your gun for back up
Squeeze the trigger 'til your finger numb then don't get clapped up
Vital survival shit, feel the high when my rival hit
Look the judge in the eye and lie, my hand on the bible shit
Ayo, Dip got killed, Munch got killed
Pete got killed, Casablanca silk
We ain't even hilt before some more blood spilt
Moms lost two sons in a year
I don't even wanna know how that shit feel
Eastside shit real
Knowledge from dope past, clutching my blick still
I'm godly (I'm godly, I'm godly, godly)
It was either me or him Allah, I'm sorry (Allah, I'm sorry, Allah, I'm sorry)
What the fuck would you do?
Crossover, two different pots, Skip 2 My Lou
Hitler Wears Hermes, hangin' at the Louvre
In the bag, racing Rari's with Larry June
Look at the Vs in the WESTSIDEDOOM
Rest in peace, DOOM
All fuckin' caps
Rest in peace to my OG
I lost that nigga few months ago
That was my nigga
Written by:
Alvin Worthy
Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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