[Outro: Bro A.A. Rashid]
Hey, I’ve been talkin’ to you, man
I say, yo, yo, yo, listen; all this old gorilla shit you tryin’ to spin everybody with, man
Go ahead, man, with that old bullshit, man
N***as don’t believe that shit
No how, leave the fuck outta here with that old cornball shit
Man, this shit is art, n***a
You understand? Don’t lose sight of your motherfucking, artistic contributions, n***a
And I can see it
That’s why y’all n***as, raps is wack
N***as raps is mad wack
N***as be sending me—haha—music
I be like this n***a shit is corny
Ehh
No art—n***as ain’t go no art in they shit
Then the n***a goes, then the n***a go-go
Send you pictures and shit
Hey, n***a send you pictures
Shit, n***a, I said
Man, what the fuck is this shit here this n***a got on, n***a?
You crazy motherfucker
With this old wild ass shit
You told me that you wouldn’t a n***a though
Listen to your shit, n***a
You, missed, the first three periods of school, n***a
You went right to lunch
You missed the first three, fucking classes
Art, theater, fashion, n***a
You a theatrical performer, stop frontin’
‘Cause it-it-it ain’t but, only a few of you motherfuckers
Really did what you say you do
Haha, you know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout?
‘Cause, eh, you know
Everybody is, tryin’ to keep it real
And I’m tryin’ to figure out what the fuck is real nowadays
With these n***as on some keepin’ it real shit
Shit, n***as keepin’ it real dirty
Box? n***as in they motherfucking music video
Step, runnin’ around, jumpin’ around and shit
Pointin’ their hands like they got
Hammers and shit, at the screen and shit
Yellin’ at me and shit
I’m like, man, what the fuck you want me to do?
You want my money?
What's this a stickup? or this is what?
Yeah, art
‘Cause it ain’t art, n***a, you look crazy as fuck
N***as need to go back to them old budgets, n***a
When they, when they give n***as the, five hundred thousand
Of ‘em, a mil, two mil
N***a, to make these type of music
N***as runnin’ around
Promised that on me with all this ol' stupid shit
Flashin' belts, n***as then didn't know whips or nothin'
Talkin’ ’bout hey, look, look at me
I’m 'bout to run ‘em down, n***a
And all this ol'shit
They, hey, look, lil' bro
Art, fashion, n***a
Get your fucking weight up
You n***as need to go to school
You n***as might need to go to school
No bullshit
‘Cause your raps is wack
You ain’t got words
You n***as ain’t got no words!
I said, what the fuck rhymes with that?
That?
N***as crazy
Hah, hahaha
Fashion
You better curate your art, n***a
You gotta tell these n***as why you do what you do
‘Cause, there ain’t nobody gonna be there that
Explain that shit
You need rhetoric
Who told you rhetoric was a bad word?
N***as don’t read enough
Listen
Rhetoric means persuasive language
If you wanna sell music, don’t just be makin’ music
‘Cause you like to make music, n***a
Make music to sell music, n***a
And then we’ll see if you nice, n***a
If somebody’ll buy that stupid ass shit you talkin’ ‘bout
Miss me with that shit
N***as plot-
Man, pass my-pass my reefer
Pass my reefer, man
Westside Gunn
With another one
Straight classic legend, classic legend
Classic art legend, legend
Beyond supreme, beyond all that shit
Next level
You already know what the fuck it is
N***as is done
Westside Gunn
Griselda, by Fashion Rebels