Westside Gunn Vera Boys (feat. Keisha Plum)
[Intro: Westside Gunn]
The f..ck yo?
I don't even know why, I don't even know I'm f..ckin' this ill my nigga, I just am
SE Gang
[Verse 1: Westside Gunn]
Yo, everyday I pray to J Dilla
It's a full time job not spray a nigga
All this dope ain't gon' sell itself
Gut shot made his stomach melt
Pulled off in an Audi wagon
Did a U-ey came back with fully automatics
Mad Max with the black MAC, left his body parts in a trash bag
Up in Visits talkin' past glass
Now it's buyin' dinners eatin' crab legs
Everything on me vintage, pourin' champagnes over scale
Sly, we did it
Aventadors on tour, so many guns on me you would think it's war
Not at all, I'm just paranoid
Pair of jumpers, Vera Wang, we them Vera boys
Close my eyes I seen pies, inhaled I smelled crime
Kept my ears open, I was focused
Thirty AK-6 shells will flip your Lotus
These niggas bogus, they like three-quarters soda
Lyrically I'm off the boat with it
Studded Loubout' duffle with stupid coke in it
Assholes with gas stoves, nigga you reap what you sow
Lake [?], I'm out on Chippawa
I'm the dopest, I don't give a f..ck who you are
I don't give a f..ck who you are
[Verse 2: Keisha Plum]
Like Adolf, I got no remorse
Slice your baby moms with a dirty box cutter
The real hood forever
Finesse right and skin tight Moschino and Fendi leathers
Poetic gun flow, I'm Nikki Giovanni with the Hublot
Blood stains on my six inch Stilettos
Steppin' on your throat, worse than Hitler doing lines of coke
Burnin' some purple OG, I'm Illmatic times three
Sick destiny, visualize a hustler's complexity
Murderous tendencies, Balenciaga bag full of blue face Benji's
Keisha Plum, Westside Gunn, 716 infamy
