More songs by Westside Gunn
More songs by Stove God Cooks
Description
Producer: Harry Fraud
Composer, Lyricist: Alvin Worthy
Composer, Lyricist: Aaron Cook
Lyrics and translation
Original
Fuck the boogeyman, nigga.
-Greatest curator of all time, nigga.
-You don't understand -why I did it. -Ayo, call me God for short. I'm from the
East Side where we shoot shit. If he gotta go, he gotta go.
In the pot deep, elbows touching. Tony figure for a joke for the last spot. Now your crutches. Twenty-six
GT, I did a hundred just to wake it up.
Mayo drawers had the eight twirling the -hats, shake it up.
-You don't understand -why I did it. -You broke, you pussy.
If they ask you if I'm still cooking, tell 'em, you broke, you pussy.
If they ask you if I'm still cooking, tell 'em, no, no, no. You fat, you pussy.
If they ask you if I'm still cooking, tell 'em, no, but I can get it to you whole. Thirty-six
O's. If you touch the hem of the Louis coat, bitch, you owe me.
Bitch, you owe me.
If they ask you who run shit, you better have set up.
Go to war, you better have your bread up. Fuck around and get wet up.
Put so much money on your top, Pop can't -help but keep your fucking head up. -You don't understand why I did it.
I'm off the coast in the big Rolls.
We was trying to buy thirty, you said I only got ten on me. Believe 'em when they say they didn't know me.
Why would I be talking to them niggas? I was dropping work on they big homie.
Half an ounce in the water just to test it. Course I powder on the triple S's.
Footprints on the brick, I ain't lost a step. All these kilo rappers, I might put 'em together and wear 'em to the
Met.
-Why I did it. -You broke, you pussy. If they ask you if
I'm still cooking, tell 'em, you broke, you pussy.
If they ask you if I'm still cooking, tell 'em, no, no, no. You fat, you pussy.
If they ask you if I'm still cooking, tell 'em, no, but I can get it to you whole.
Thirty-six O's. If you touch the hem of the Louis coat, bitch, you owe me. Bitch,
I'm Luther Vandross with a brick. Six hundred on my neck.
Fuck wrong with these -niggas? Griselda. -Griselda, Griselda, Griselda.
I got a cross on my stomach from that random old shooting.
Niggas trying to kill me. What the fuck I'm doing? Trying to get to it, got me hit in the leg.
Trying to take me out, make your pussy ass beg. One for the head, other chest and the leg.
Baby girl wanna fuck the best, that's your bed.
Talking to my motherfucking nigga, get you hit. Forty-five slugs coming out the chamber quick.
I should have told you now that you don't want no beef.
Solitary side, hollow nigga in the streets. When you're playing nine, nigga, you gon' feel the heat.
Thirty fucking rounds as I put him straight to sleep. L-I-P, fuck Lip, you know the name. OG
East Side clique, boy, I blow your fucking brain.
English translation
Fuck the boogeyman, nigga.
-Greatest curator of all time, nigga.
-You don't understand -why I did it. -Ayo, call me God for short. I'm from the
East Side where we shoot shit. If he gotta go, he gotta go.
In the pot deep, elbows touching. Tony figure for a joke for the last spot. Now your crutches. Twenty-six
GT, I did a hundred just to wake it up.
Mayo drawers had the eight twirling the -hats, shake it up.
-You don't understand -why I did it. -You broke, you pussy.
If they ask you if I'm still cooking, tell 'em, you broke, you pussy.
If they ask you if I'm still cooking, tell 'em, no, no, no. You fat, you pussy.
If they ask you if I'm still cooking, tell 'em, no, but I can get it to you whole. Thirty-six
O's. If you touch the hem of the Louis coat, bitch, you owe me.
Bitch, you owe me.
If they ask you who run shit, you better have set up.
Go to war, you better have your bread up. Fuck around and get wet up.
Put so much money on your top, Pop can't -help but keep your fucking head up. -You don't understand why I did it.
I'm off the coast in the big Rolls.
We was trying to buy thirty, you said I only got ten on me. Believe 'em when they say they didn't know me.
Why would I be talking to them niggas? I was dropping work on they big homie.
Half an ounce in the water just to test it. Course I powder on the triple S's.
Footprints on the brick, I ain't lost a step. All these kilo rappers, I might put 'em together and wear 'em to the
Met.
-Why I did it. -You broke, you pussy. If they ask you if
I'm still cooking, tell 'em, you broke, you pussy.
If they ask you if I'm still cooking, tell 'em, no, no, no. You fat, you pussy.
If they ask you if I'm still cooking, tell 'em, no, but I can get it to you whole.
Thirty-six O's. If you touch the hem of the Louis coat, bitch, you owe me. Bitch,
I'm Luther Vandross with a brick. Six hundred on my neck.
Fuck wrong with these -niggas? Griselda. -Griselda, Griselda, Griselda.
I got a cross on my stomach from that random old shooting.
Niggas trying to kill me. What the fuck I'm doing? Trying to get to it, got me hit in the leg.
Trying to take me out, make your pussy ass beg. One for the head, other chest and the leg.
Baby girl wanna fuck the best, that's your bed.
Talking to my motherfucking nigga, get you hit. Forty-five slugs coming out the chamber quick.
I should have told you now that you don't want no beef.
Solitary side, hollow nigga in the streets. When you're playing nine, nigga, you gon' feel the heat.
Thirty fucking rounds as I put him straight to sleep. L-I-P, fuck Lip, you know the name. OG
East Side clique, boy, I blow your fucking brain.