Kishore Kumar Hits

Westside Gunn - 98 Sabres (feat. Armani Caesar, Conway The Machine & Benny The Butcher) lyrics

Artist: Westside Gunn

album: WHO MADE THE SUNSHINE


Shay, rest in peace
Ha, ha, ha, ha
Kill, kill, kill, kill
Kill, kill, kill, kill
Just Blaze
As we proceed, to give you what you need
It's Griselda muh, I tried to tell you all
Ayo, you lookin' at my jewels, don't even risk it (don't even risk it, ah)
My mechanic be sniffin' with the wrenches (with the wrenches, sniff)
In the mess hall, I got to listen (I got to listen)
First day home, I got to whippin' (I got to whippin', whip)
My country b- think she from Memphis (she from Memphis)
She could suck d- in the Olympics (in the Olympics, ah)
Everyday, I wake up, I gotta get it (I gotta get it)
My n- dome shot sh-, he be wiggin'
How you been FLYGOD? I been livin' (I been livin')
Pollo Loco with the chicken (with the chicken)
Even Nino Brown started snitchin' (started snitchin', ah)
Big four pound with the extension
Move like Chef Dred in the kitchen (in the kitchen, ah)
You'd rather be dead than go against us (than go against)
My n- dopeboy, he be whoopin' (he be whoopin')
My n- TF, he be crippin' (yo, crippin')
Boss b-, yeah, I'm hella bomb (hella bomb)
Money phone ringin' like a telethon (brr)
I came in the game with my weapons drawn (uh-huh)
Necks what I'm steppin' on (what's up?), Hated, but respected on (come on)
Heavy on the weight (weight), heavy on the cake
Iced out the same chains that Harriet escaped (uh-huh)
Word to all the millions and risks that we takes (uh-huh)
The Liberace estates (what else?), Dolce Gabbana drapes, what (woo)
I'm a beauty, but a beast on the track (uh-huh)
Don't confuse this with my booty, this the East on my back (what)
You upset yet? Diamond chain on that wet, wet (uh-huh)
You can slide, b-, I jet set, I'm gettin' pampered like the bed wet (come on)
N- hand it to me like the nail tech (uh-huh)
Passin' b- like a test, but this ain't no LSAT, what
You b- better be scared if I level up (level up)
No, elevators, bitch (look), step it up
Standin' on the furniture, I told the bottle girl, "B-, pass the Ace" (bring me that Ace, b-)
I popped the cork, poured the whole bottle for homies passed away
Wrap the Wraith, Killa Bee yellow with the matchin' skates
And still got racks in the safe, a half a letter stashed away (ha)
Wrapped a half a cake in saran wrap and some maskin' tape
Rappin' circles around rappers, I probably lapped them eight times
Keep the MAC on waist, I don't waste time
Boy, you get the drum work from the Griselda Records basket case (brr)
They say they richer than Machine, that's like a slap in face
The problem is I'm gettin' more money and at a faster pace (hahaha)
Look, I ain't human, I'm an alien, homie
I just came back from space, came to outrap the greats (talk to 'em)
Trust me, I got the bread to get a n- whacked today
They bring me back your head, don't matter how much cash it take
We used to traffic base, now the trap 40 racks a day
It's safe to say we got a boomin' system, I'm Masta Ace (ha)
The shooter 16, throttle in his VLONE hoodie
N- look at me wrong, then he uppin' this chrome for me
I got rich on my own, don't need a n- to loan money (uh-huh)
Ain't signin' no more contracts unless it's Mahomes money (woo)
Machine, b-
RIP to rappers I buried, left the trap and then married
I won a ring for every team I was on, like Vinatieri
I got the four-door too (uh-huh), so many whips, it's gettin' scary (uh-huh)
Book a photoshoot, y'all 'bout to need pics for obituaries
The GxF Rebels, any static, n- we accept
Y'all n- should be in check, or BSF'll be at necks
When I say the beef lit, I don't mean a tweet or text (I don't mean that)
Shooters, I send three, no less, and let 'em take the CLS
Beef is I know where your people stay (I know), I don't need to flex (I don't)
But when you least expect it, I send a cleanup crew to each address (brr)
Beef is a forever thing, careful when you speakin' threats
I achieved success and still can't even rest (ah)
Took this street sh- corporate, a dab of it, I just balanced it
Authentic, all this G sh- I'm talkin', they never challenge it
Where I'm from, we ignorant, graduatin' average
F- that, if you can flip money, then you talented
Man, y'all lost, I could be payin' y'all off (payin' off)
But I don't trip, 'cause y'all n- broke and y'all soft (p-)
Think I'm playin', y'all wrong, I'm frontin' when the gram's all gone
Put a yellow band on my arm like I'm Lance Armstrong, ah

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