Celine Dion Lyrics – Westside Gunn
Singer: Westside Gunn
Title: Celine Dion
f#ck (Brr)
Ayo (Brr)
Ayo
The Black Rambo, you know the handle (Brr)
Bali’ sandals, the Buffalo Kids and Black Sopranos (Ah)
Got the brick dismantled, the cherry Land Rove’ (Skrrt)
We used to rock Pebble Beach and then we came home (Ah)
Hit the back of his head, now his brains gone (Boom boom boom boom boom)
See me when you wake up, pop the cells, I’m laid up
We went to the Porsche lot, he copped the same one (Skrrt,they know)
If you shine, we both shine, we used the samе guns (Boom, boom, boom)
This that 7-1-murder sh#t
My n#gg#s sell dope and murdеr sh#t (Brr)
Hundred thirty to life and he ain’t tell ’em sh#t (Shh)
Felon sh#t, we all grew up on that ghetto sh#t (On that ghetto shit)
Robbin’ n#gg#s for fun and now my bezel lit
We ghetto rich, bang the forty ’til the metal stick (Fah, fah, fah)
My n#gg# pray to the devil, he on some rebel sh#t
Tat his face, never blink when the ratchet shake (Never did)
Have a fiend do him dirty for a half a eight
Turn his face, got a lawyer that’ll burn the case
Get a extra headshot, that’s just for turnin’ state
We suicidal, lost soldiers in the beef with rivals
Told my mama that I love her, loadin’ up my rifle
We the idol (m#th*rf#ck*r), you’ll die today, I tell ’em snipe you (Brr)
Who the youngest OG? I’ma take that title (That’s me, n#gg#)
Jordan, Michael, six ring when the pound strikin’ (Fah, fah, fah, fah, fah)
Let the first one scream, he thought he saw lightning
Frr, they know, yeah
Y’all know me
Big BSF, n#gg#
Gunn, good lookin’, n#gg#
Same n#gg#, look
I turn fifty into eighty if you whip it good (That’s a fact)
Chop it up, then I’m in your hood (I’m in your hood)
Like the engineers, I serve your b#tch while she with the kids (Haha)
I’m into flips like a gymnast is (Like)
You ain’t Mr. Big (Nah), you ain’t never bust a head over price (p#ss# n#gg#)
You ain’t never stuffed dope in a bowl of rice (Stop lyin’)
You got knocked and started singin’ like Hova’s wife (p#ss#)
This street sh#t is like a roll of dice, n#gg#
And I’m here for the head crack (Uh huh)
Over a little cheese, get your head tapped, n#gg# (Brr), I can’t stand rats (Nah)
And these shells is like pesticides on ’em (Bah bah bah), I’m pushin’ weight tryna exercise on ’em
These b#tches think you a chicken box (Why)
‘Cause they got some breast and thighs on ’em (f#ck outta here)
I just ran out of work, who got some extra pies on ’em? (Who got some work?)
And that’s a real question, you n#gg#s still bluffin’ (Uh huh)
So I got them pills jumpin’ (Wait), cleats on, I’m field runnin’
You ain’t ever killed nothin’, go on drills, nothin’, n#gg#
I up the steel, I’m like Phil Drummond (Brr)
I wanna bring out the guy that was the challenger in that particular instance we are talking about
FLYGOD
Who did indeed make a valiant effort to take the title away from Nick Bockwinkel, but
First of all let say I’m glad to see your back especially after seeing your front
Hahahaha
Let me ask you one other thing
Did you hear that the court just made a ruling that their gonna have to make the Lone Ranger take his mask off
They ever see you the are gonna make a ruling where you’re gonna have to wear a mask
Do you realize that?
Yeah it’s a rare form day I hear it, okay
That’s right baby when I beat the world heavyweight champion
I am in rare form and i guess you saw it right there didn’t yah
Yeah I saw what could be interpreted I’m certainly by you as a win over the champion, he still, he still rung the bell
Could be interpreted? he still rung the bell
It was a one two three
Thats right took me a couple of minutes longer than I interpreted
What, what can you expect I was fighting two world champions that night
Ayo, I’m rockin’ skates, eatin’ thousand dollar plates (Ah)
Sold dope for fifteen years straight, I need a break
More money on the way (More money on the way)
More money on the way
Ayo, I’m rockin’ skates, eatin’ thousand dollar plates (Ah)
Sold dope for fifteen years straight, I need a break
More money on the way (More money on the way)
More money on the way (Lord, Lord)
From the change jar, hoppin’ out that foreign, slide to Saks and Fifth (Skrrt)
Skippin’ out that b#tch with twenty racks of sh#t (Yeah)
Uh, Off-Whites on, Dior gone
Swam [?] on hip, keep belovey feelin’ strong (Brr, brr, brr)
Prayin’ for my sins, chop it up with FLYGOD (Chop it up with FLYGOD)
Ms is rollin’ in, I ain’t gotta sell hard (I ain’t’ gotta sell hard)
Exes lookin’ sick, but I’m spinnin’ in the Tesla (Skrrt)
The thirty-eight is mean, but got that thirty on the heckler (Brr)
You can catch me up in Neiman’s, I be gettin’ some help (Gettin’ some help)
When I seen you in that b#tch, you was coppin’ a belt (f#ck outta here)
You wasn’t on my side when the vision was felt (f#ck outta here)
Belovey, boy, you up some water so them pigeons can melt (Whip, whip)
Sold ‘caine for nine years, we don’t play around here (Nope)
Tried to run off with that [?], now he stay around chairs (Get that n#gg#)
Got a crowd, but these m#th*rf#ck*rs yellin’ out dimes (Dimes)
A hundred grams, but I only sell seven at a time
Ayo, I’m rockin’ skates, eatin’ thousand dollar plates
Sold dope for fifteen years straight, I need a break
More money on the way (More money on the way)
More money on the way
Ayo, I’m rockin’ skates, eatin’ thousand dollar plates
Sold dope for fifteen years straight, I need a break
More money on the way (More money on the way)
More money on the way
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Lyrics Westside Gunn – Celine Dion
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