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flyy - westside gunn lyrics

[intro]
ayo, yo, where the f*ck the clock at, yo?

[verse: westside gunn]
ayo, they asked if the work swimming, lord forgive ’em
micheal phelps in the pot it’s reeking up at [?] kitchen
n*gga put a pinky in the raw brick, 20 for a half, no shake
he looked at me and said delicious n*gga
had to learn a little spanish, you dropped your work and then it vanished, put my models (?) on a plate, not time for table manners
revolving doors at the penitentiary, dispensaries calling my name
raw paper stuffed with [?]
i’m the flyest n*gga ever on the mic, you disagree and you’re dead man
christian dior is in the morgue, had 2 fingers up in coco chanel, new york strip meat and you well (?), i left his brains on a gigi plate (?), you f*cking with me no way i’m f*cking genuine like salt lay
ferragamo flight jacket i’m about to take flight, n*ggas’ll (?) tell on their moms they give that b*tch life
n*ggas’ll (?) tell on their moms they give that b*tch life

- westside gunn lyrics

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