[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
Ain’t gonna have none with that old bullshit man
N***a don’t believe that shit
No how, leave the fuck outta here with that old cornball bullshit
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 this shit
Then n***a goes, then n***a go
Will send you pictures of 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 here, n***a?
You crazy motherfucker
With this old wild ass shit
You told me you wouldn’t n***a that
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 ain’t but only a few of you motherfuckers
Really did what you say you would do
Ha. 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
[?] keepin’ it real
Shit
Shit
N***as keepin’ it real dirty
[?] n***as in the motherfucking music videos
Step, Runnin’ ‘round, jumpin’ ‘round 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
Was it 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 budget n***a
When they, when they [?] n***as five hundred thousand
Of ‘em, a mil, two mil
N***a to make these [?]
These n***a runnin’ ‘round
[?] on me
(hmm)
With all this old stupid shit flat shit
Belts
N***as then didn’t, no whips or nothin’
Talkin’ ’bout hey, look, look at me
I’m gonna run ‘em down, n***a
And all this other shit
They, hey, look, look, bro
Art, fashion, n***a
Get your fucking weight up
You n***a need to go to school
You n***a 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
Ha, hahaha
Fashion
You gonna curate your art, n***a
You better tell these n***as why you do what you do
‘Cause, they 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 [?]
Man, that’s me, that’s my [?]
That’s my [?]
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