[Lyrics] Westside Gunn – Big Ass Bracelet (Ft. Stove God Cooks) Lyrics

[Intro: Westside Gunn]

As I look back, I watch him board the plane

Ayo, ayo

Brra

Brra

Ayo, ayo, ayo

[Verse 1: Westside Gunn & Keisha Plum]

Three stripes on the Gucci

Lyrics back to back, 63s, we all had Uzis (Skrrt)

Selene knee-highs over the face, lookin’ spooky

If you ever bought a three for fifty, nigga, you knew me (Nigga, you knew me)

In the ghetto, AP strapped the coke out a soupie (Whip)

Neck full of Veert pearls, lookin’ all bougie

Greeted my fiends with “As-salamu alaykum”

Moms was a basehead, could blame it on Reagan

What if I tell you drug dealers God’s favorite?

Three hunnid for the plate and didn’t taste it (Uh-uh)

You ever left a tip so big, you fuck the waitress? (Woo)

I rock my DOOM Dunks with red laces

I pray for my niggas with Fed cases

Who that nigga in that big ass bracelet?

Ayo, looking like a Margiela model at the Guggenheim (Ah)

Turned three to eight, that shit too divine (Width)

Chrome Heart goggles like I’m scuba diving

Hermès seats, it look like the coupe was flyin’ (Skrrt)

On the counter, never knew my life would turn this great

Drunk so much Chase, I threw up my Papi Steak (Ah)

Anybody violate, I annihilate (Boom, boom, boom)

I switched the band on the Dick, you rockin’ time today

I could’ve fucked your bitch but I don’t got the time today (I don’t got the time today)

Tie everybody up, we gotta find the yay (We gotta find the yay)

Jamaican tank top, Jean-Paul Gaultier (Woo, brra)

Airholes on the TEC (Woo, brra) fuck nigga, I don’t play (Brr)

Three stoves in the kitchen, two in the basement

Who that nigga in that big ass bracelet?

[Verse 2: Stove God Cooks]

They wire the money now, they used to wire the room (We was)

We was cuttin’ dog food out designer balloons (Inshallah)

I was prayin’ in the dirt one day I bloom (Haha)

Become Hov in a metal mask, I be Shawn DOOM (We die big)

We live enormous, you die big or you die alone (Brra, bah, bah,)

Either way you die alone, my shooter Pat Mahomes (Brr)

My bullet thrower

I was court-side watching Syracuse play Villanova (Go)

I flew here straight from a vineyard in Sonoma (Woo)

Talkin’ cocaine around weed growers (Haha)

Bitch, I just had dinner across the room from Oprah

My young boy jumped out in Giuseppe Cobras and the snow dumpin’ (Brrra)

This shit is nothing, these pussy niggas bluffin’ (Woo, go)

Every issue get aired out or cleared up (Yeah)

Chanel prayer rug, my bitch said I ain’t there enough

I rolled up twenty bands, put it in her hair and told her “Wear it up” (Told her put her bun up)

You need to praise God and fear us (You should)

Find the illest, who dope then?

I end them niggas with two shakes of a goat pen

I wrote this in the kitchen over the stove while the dope was spinnin’ (Woo)

They shot him through the door while he was openin’ it (Brra, nah, bah)

Stove Jesus on the cross screamin’ “No forgiveness” (No forgiveness)

No forgiveness, this is Louis loafer livin’

They said it’s no way out (Haha)

But Puff backyard got the ocean in it

I just hope you can swim, nigga

Stove

[Outro: Onion The Crackhead]

It must be crack

Got me selling all my clothes

Spendin’ all my dough

It must be crack

Got me knockin’ at your window at three in the morning

Talkin’ ’bout

They know I got two loves

Man, get the fuck outta here

Even when them hustlin’ days are gone

Crack was by my side still holdin’ on

Even when them twenties stop spinnin’ (Hahaha)

Crack, it be with me, disappear

Crack still be here, it must be crack

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