Brossface Brippler Lyrics - Westside Gunn

[Intro: ? & Westside Gunn] 

It doesn't stop for him 

Walks on 

Grr, ayo 

'Cause he don't want you to know that you can walk on the water 

Well, I'ma tell you right now 

Grr 

[Verse 1: Westside Gunn] 

Ayo, rocking Calabasas out in Calabasas 

Tuck the MAC in, Off-White fatigue with the army patches 

Allah save 'em, suede sweatsuit, Palm Angels 

Star spangled, Draco blew his head off from all angles 

Alchemist cool, hoodies bool, sipping Veuvo 

My lil nigga dropped out the first day of school 

Dropped tears when I wrote my celly, Louis slides 

Doctor Romanelli hold the Desi, switch the bust to the gold Presi 

Who that nigga usually shoulder laying on? 

Ten thousand dollar sofas, plug loafers made from cobra 

Handle rock like Villanova, gave him cold shoulders 

But the neck colder for them TEC toter 

Get the Lex chauffeur, yo (skr) 

I dare one of y'all to step on the Waverunners 

Plain summer, hit the west coast, his brains in the luggage 

Make you suffer, but you love it (ah) 

Make you suffer, but you love it (boom boom boom boom boom boom boom) 

Wayne bucking, chain tucking 'fore it's took 

You want a yard but you shook 

My nigga went to trial and got cooked 

He should've looked both ways 

I got rich off of cocaine 

Yours never came back, what a shame 

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[Verse 2: Benny] 

Yo, ay, look, my dog'll slit your throat for a brick of coke 

He walked in the credit union, then he slipped a note 

A new Ferrari, ticket price, that's what my kitchen grossed 

Illegal business, my scale off balance, and my blender broke 

Griselda on another run, and that's major facts 

And y'all put guns in hands of niggas you know ain't gon' clap 

I got the .38 on strap wearing Raiders black 

We switch pistols, did missions, then traded back 

Born in the era, in the '80s with the smokers 

Hit the corner and they cop with a baby in the stroller 

Saw my family on drugs, that's what made me whip the soda 

If I don't answer for the plug, that's gon' make him miss his quota 

Uh huh, it's crazy, we came up from doing all this evil 

Sold dope with so much cut that it clogged they needles 

And being real, for this long, gon' be hard to equal 

This for the hustlers who got on and fed all they people 

My niggas stand up, my Glock shoot straight 

Crime do pay, these Nike boxes not for shoe space 

Y'all got due dates, for one charge, did time in two states 

I put pictures of my kids up, applying toothpaste, uh 

This gon' be a real heartbreaker, and I stand by it 

Can flying, blowing at your head like a hair dryer 

East side nigga, my whole hood full of Scarfaces 

Guns in guitar cases, blood on a long apron 

Photos 

[Verse 3: Busta Rhymes] 

I cut coke like I'm chopping beats, they call me Mr. Walt, bae 

Master, the chef, I'm cooking coke, they call me Salt Bae 

Bitches'll bag my crack while I fuck 'em in a short stay 

Niggas'll brag 'bout flipping coke while I somersault the yay 

Your coke good, but you a worker is what you're supposed to say 

At a hookah lounge with a waitress serving coke, now sniff it off the tray 

While I celebrate a birth this evening, pop the bottle cork and spray 

Pipe your bitch 'til she sleeping, show my bread, you'll be forced to pay 

Cocked, now I'm letting off the K, developer 

Molding and shaping the predator 

Better off the prey despite how kneeling they often pray 

It's like I'm still bagging crack with Fredrico 

Blade accidentally split your finger 

Blood mixed up all in the perico, bendito 

Sorry for all of you niggas that became victims while we count your bread over mojitos 

Fabulous imported fabrics even when I'm in my street clothes 

This motherfucker distribute butter 

Like I'm spreading it on wheat toast 

So much bread the money bag swell up, we getting it in each loaf 

[Outro] 

Because he don't want you to know that you can walk on the water 

Well, I'ma tell you right now