Lyrics Thousand Shot Mac - Westside Gunn

Yeah, uh-huh
Yo, yeah, uh

Flossin' up at Harry Rosen
I stacked fifty last week, I'm 'bout to spend a portion
Never divorcin' with this life so I'ma die in gold
I abide the code
Meanwhile, your cats divide, fold, told and got paroled
I ain't callin' you out, just cross the street where you see me
Change the channel 'fore I smack you through the TV
From half a gram to a hand-to-hand for a half a gram
Now it's trenchcoats imported from Japan and Amsterdam
I have to plan to keep it goin', life is like an escalator
You're counterfeit and I'm the marker used to test the paper
We both in the buildin', I'm on a higher floor
The bitches that y'all niggas wife I use to test the raw
Analyze my resume before you test the water
Don't make me have to fly in shooters from across the border
Eatin' celery root and pear bisque with some rare fish
Uh, I no longer have to risk it
Chillin' in the bodega like I'm a mystic

Ayo, you ain't never met a nigga like me in your life
C-Os popped the lock I'm on the yard with the knife
Money on ya head, what's the price? What's the price?
Cooked the whole brick, kitchen ain't had no light
We up at one, though, with the pipe on (Pipe on)
Tom Ford Balmain is python (Python)
A Chi-Town shooter, he a Vice Lord
Why God had to make me so nice for?
I'm at the Luxor, the coke on the cut board
Baking soda, what the fuck for?
The rice with the duck sauce
Gunshots'll drop his lunch off
He ain't dead yet? Had to blow his head the fuck off
I'm in the mess hall Thursday eatin' chicken with the drug lords
Wholesale, oh well
I know they fresh off I just seen the boat sail
Buggati coattail
My first gone three weeks with no shells
Been shootin' ever since, you know me well, you know me well

I had a brown-skin girl, same color as my Dutch
She said, "Holie, go drag your nuts"
She queef melodically, in Greek mythology
Nike is the goddess of victory and that lit to me (We lit)
The weed has a litany, the side effects, they get to me
That shit ain't shit to me
I get higher than a war drone in a war zone
I should win awards, bro, and go on tour, ho
My niggas on the west side got they guns
And Mey came through with a box of ones
That's a day trip to Vegas, we stay lit, hit wages
The day is outrageous, I'm pullin' twelve gauges

Niggas in yo' bushes, they waitin' to let the K smoke
The shooter had to sniff a fifty just so he could stay woke
You niggas ain't got no ambition so y'all gon' stay broke
Why you think I'm in this trap kitchen tryna weigh coke?
Shit, it's either that or I slip the teller a bank note
My dog just came home, he on parole so he can't smoke
Like Bishop in Juice, three fifty-seven by the ankle
Nigga get outta pocket I'm sendin' God back a angel
I used to get the boy from a Spanish nigga, Pedro
I'm self-made, I ain't need to sign to a record label
Yeah, out on Rodeo pushin' Scaglietti
Geiger double-O twos, wear your gloves when you baggin' fetti
Who's the better rapper? I haven't met 'em
Have my little savage wet him, I hope your mama got a casket ready