Westside Gunn - AMIRA KITCHEN (feat. Brother Tom Sos & AA Rashid) paroles de chanson
Westside Gunn AMIRA KITCHEN (feat. Brother Tom Sos & AA Rashid)

AMIRA KITCHEN (feat. Brother Tom Sos & AA Rashid)

Westside Gunn


paroles de chanson AMIRA KITCHEN (feat. Brother Tom Sos & AA Rashid) - Westside Gunn




Ay, yo, I still wear ski masks for the dividends
On the yacht, Tom Ford gloves, eating Michelin
BET Awards in my Chrome Hearts Timberlands
Rest in peace X, how my plug said, "It's him again"
Super FLYGOD, fiends kneeling to my feet, all
Candy 1s had 'em coming for a week (ah)
I could buy a brick cheap
But a body much cheaper (boom-boom-boom-boom)
I only gave him ten flat, boy came with the sweeper
I'm on the road, keep it on you even before parole
I seen my YN, the devil had stole his soul
I only talk to my kids, I don't fuck with phones
If you don't like it, get the fuck on (get the fuck on)
Nigga, check the rap sheet, I don't do rap beef (uh-uh)
Freeze 'em in DC, pump name was Ashley (whoa!)
I'm kicking it, sack in each ass, looking jazzy
Came out the bushes, all black with the lassie
We've seen the rainstorms, we've seen sunshine
And on both days, we'd be alright
We've seen runways, we've seen gunfights
And on both days, we was alright
We'd be alright, mm
Everything working 'cause God said it would
We'd be alright, hmm
Uh, if I'ma do it, I might as well do it right and exact
You niggas ruined the movement, we came and got it intact
Well in fact, I keep a shooter and he gon' do just that
Think you're running off with some jewellery, gon' get shot in your cap
Like a graduation picture
Do the knowledge and you be graduating quicker
Hands in the air with champagne glasses, this a stick up
I'm tryna tell you that you shouldn't burn that bridge up
I come in peace
I bet Virgil rolling in his grave (ah)
Dope boy shit, rollie and a chain (ah)
Probably had dope running in his veins (ah)
Watch for the backdoor, shit change (mm)
I done sold ten bricks in a day (whoa)
I done took my French bitch to Waly Fay (whoa)
Had court, told my grandmama, "pray"
You shoulda seen me doing pushups in the cage (ah)
A hundred ups, a hundred dips, I'm insane (ah)
This for my niggas on the yard with the blade (free my niggas)
I only got ten mil' to my name (whoa)
I done smiled through the pain
We've seen the rainstorms, we've seen sunshine
And on both days, we'd be alright
We've seen runways, we've seen gunfights
And on both days, we was alright
We'd be alright, mm
Everything working 'cause God said it would
We'd be alright, mm
We've seen the rainstorms, we've seen sunshine
And on both days, we'd be alright
We've seen runways, we've seen gunfights
And on both days, we was alright
We'd be alright, mm
Everything working 'cause God said it would
We'd be alright, mm
Man, let the music be a spiritual soundtrack
To the ritual performance of this greatness, man, you know?
Look around you right now, man
Can you feel how when the brass cried
The Heavens adjusted their garments, you know?
This is why goats have horns, man
Can you see 'em? Can you hear 'em? Huh?
The stars take new positions when these deities
Spoke this saxophone into being, man, horns, promise you
Watch all the angels lean in to listen, man, yeah
But you know us
He who performs for applause has already lost his voice, you know?
There's no glory being a copy of a copy
Of a God, man, you know?
Especially if it was the God who gave you breath
Not to repeat, but to respond, you know?
With your ability, son, for real
That's your response ability, son
Not God, so, ay
God is not impressed by imitation
They are not moved by mimicry
They do not nod at your echos, man
God inspire themselves, you know?
Now ask yourself, "have you been inspired?"
For real
Only, only, only goats have horns like this, man
Don't let, don't let that go over your head, man
A goat without horns is soon forgotten by history
Don't let this brass go over your head
Hmm, yeah, yeah
So if the music does not improve the quality of your thinking
Then it's not music, man, it's just a theft of your time
A sabotage of your spirit, man, for real
Long live Virgil, long live Michelle
You look like motherfuckin' Mike Tyson right here, my nigga
You know I'm sayin', I'm comin' out
That's what you wanna do?
Oh, you, oh, you wanna hurt?
You wanna hurt everybody
Everybody? (oh, he, look, oh, shit, he's still movin')
Everybody gets it? (Yeah)
Everybody gets it, yeah



Writer(s): Alvin Worthy


Attention! N'hésitez pas à laisser des commentaires.